The Ballad of The Lady and The Reiver
by Isolation Shepherd
Summary: The 100 meets Outlander in this tale of love and war, theft and betrayal set in the Scottish Borders in the 16th Century. When Lady Abigail Griffin is travelling home late one night she encounters a lawless group of reivers (thieves) who roam the border between England and Scotland. Amongst them is Marcus Kane, a man of legend, with a surprising and complicated past.
1. An Encounter

CHAPTER ONE – AN ENCOUNTER

September 1574, The Scottish Borders

Darkness had fallen and the temperature of the early autumn day had dropped quickly. A cold, dank mist rose from the burn they were following and shrouded the carriage, its ghostly fingers reaching in through the open windows, caressing the occupants huddled inside. Lady Abigail Griffin shivered and pulled her cloak more tightly around her. The mist had penetrated the core of her being; it was like being embraced by the dead. She was annoyed because they shouldn't have been out on this road so late into the evening. One of their horses had slipped its shoe and it had taken the groomsman two hours to find it and re-shoe the beast. As a consequence, when she should have been safe in the relative warmth of Arkholm tower, she was quivering with the cold, and her husband refused to sit near her to warm her. He was seated opposite, deep in conversation with her father about cattle or grain or she didn't know what. Their heads were close together and they were whispering. Clearly, they either didn't want her to know what they were talking about, or they thought it above her head. She was forty years old, but she might as well have been sixteen the way they treated her. Not that she should expect anything less, it was the way of the world, and she should accept her place in it. Unfortunately, accepting things without questioning was not the way Abigail Griffin went about life, and that had got her into a deal of trouble in the past. She supposed that was how she had ended up married to Lord Alasdair Griffin of Arkholm, the infamous head of Clan Griffin, ruthless businessman, feared Laird, Lord of everything, including her. She had got the husband she deserved, or so her late mother had delighted in telling her. It hadn't always been like that. This was Abigail's second marriage, her first being to Alasdair's older brother, Jacob, but he had died only four years into their marriage, and the younger brother had inherited his estate and all that came with it, including his widow.

They were on their way south to Arkholm from the market in Edinburgh, where they'd sold fifty head of cattle and bought a new bullock and ten heifers, young cows to be used for breeding. The trip was near eighty miles there and back, and had required an overnight stay. Alasdair had tempted her to attend with him by promising a gathering, and a chance to meet the wives of other clansmen allied with the Griffin clan. She should have known better than to trust him. He'd wanted her there purely to distract the other Heidsmen, eleven clan heads, mostly old and rheumy-eyed. She was to wear her low-cut gown that pushed her breasts together and left little to the imagination, and flirt with them so they didn't realise that he was shafting them on the price until it was too late. It had worked, of course, because she still had a good body, and she could turn on the charm if she had to. She didn't like it, but she had no choice. A wife does not go against her husband in sixteenth century Scotland. Would there ever be a time when a woman could be mistress of her own home, with no man to control her? Not in her lifetime, or even that of her only child, Clarke, a girl as wilful as Abigail but cleverer about it. She was Jacob's child, and had his looks but not his gentle temperament. In that, she was all Abigail's daughter. Somehow, she had managed to charm Alasdair and was the apple of his eye, although Abigail knew the true spirit of the girl behind the golden hair, blue eyes and innocent smile, and she celebrated it, even though it meant that she and Clarke had a difficult relationship. They were too alike for peace to reign for long.

The road they were on, Dere Street, was the only road between Edinburgh and England that was wide enough to take a carriage and four horses. It was an old Roman road, and as straight as Alasdair was crooked. The road lay close to Arkholm, the ancestral seat of the Griffin family, and was right in the middle of the disputed border territory between Scotland and England, land that had been fought over for two centuries. Dere Street was also a notorious target for Reivers - raiders and thieves who roamed the countryside of the border, stealing cattle and anything else they could get their hands on, raping women, killing anyone who got in their way. Being out after dark on such a road was not to be recommended, and Abigail was shivering not just with cold, but also fear. She didn't frighten easily, but the reivers were lawless, cruel and brutal. They might not be content with stealing her jewels and the cattle.

She looked out of the window as the carriage rumbled along the poorly-surfaced road. There was nothing to see except the dark night and the pale mist. She breathed it in, let it penetrate her lungs and numb her senses, not that it would make much difference. She was cold inside anyway, as Alasdair always said. Stiff, frigid, lifeless. Lady Abigail Griffin, colder than the north wind that blew over the bleak moors and made life so hard. Would she ever be warm again?

Outside the carriage, and unseen by its occupants or the clansmen who accompanied their journey back to Arkholm, shapes were forming and then disappearing, like wisps of the cold air. They moved silently, creeping, bent low to the ground, hidden by the rushes and tussocks of heather that flanked the road. As a sliver of moon appeared briefly from behind a cloud, it illuminated the shapes and revealed them to be men, many with faces blackened by mud. Other shapes took form, quivers of bright-feathered arrows, swords with polished blades glinting in the moonlight. Behind them, a row of ponies, no more than fourteen hands high, with copper brown coats and black legs, stood patiently, chewing at the heather and blaeberry. They were silent too; only the breath from their nostrils gave their presence away as it mingled in the air. They were bred for this, they knew what to do.

The carriage trundled on, its wheels slowly turning, taking it closer and closer to its fate. At a sign from one of the men, a sword lifted high into the air so that the moonlight reflected from it like a beacon, the men ran forward, near twenty of them, shouting and crying into the night. The carriage horses were startled, and reared up. The procession of carriage, cattle and men came to a shuddering halt.

Inside, Lady Abigail, her husband, and father held on to the wooden sides of the vehicle, fear on all their faces. Abigail knew instantly what it meant. Her worst fears were coming true. The shouts of the men outside were so loud it sounded like there were hundreds of them. She looked across to Alasdair and her father. They were gathering papers and coin. Alasdair opened a hidden compartment in the floor and stuffed the treasure inside.

"What about my jewellery?" She started to take off the gold necklace Jacob had given her on their wedding day but Alasdair held a hand out towards her.

"No. We need to give them something."

"And it has to be what belongs to me?"

"It is not worth so much as the money and the deeds."

Abigail looked at him. "It is to me."

Alasdair dismissed her concerns with a turn of his back, and faced the carriage door, no doubt preparing himself for whatever was to come.

Abigail fingered the necklace, turning the cross over and over in her hand, feeling its pointed edges, the smooth pearls and sharp gemstones that dotted the four corners. She'd worn this for twenty years. It was a symbol of everything she'd been through, her hopes and dreams as a young woman newly married, the all-consuming love she felt when Clarke was born, the sadness when there could never be another child, and the despair that had crept over her as the years went on. It was her life, and her husband, the brother of the man who had given it to her, had turned his back on it all. The thought of losing it brought tears to her eyes, but she fought them back. She would not let Alasdair see her crying.

From outside the carriage came the sounds of fighting, the clash of swords, the cries of men, the moans of the dying. Abigail threw off her cloak. She still had on the gown she'd worn at the gathering, as the party had lasted until the early hours and they'd left for home straight after. It was a pale blue silk, with gold and silver thread woven within it so that it shimmered as she walked. The bodice was cut low to reveal the firm swell of her breasts. It was a dress designed to bring attention to its wearer. She realised this was probably not a good thing in this situation, but she wanted her arms to be free to fight, to the death if necessary. The reivers weren't going to take her easily.

The door to the carriage was ripped open and an arm reached in and grabbed the nearest person which was Alasdair, dragging him out so that he was sprawled on the road. Her father was next, and Abigail suppressed a cry as he landed hard on the dirt. He was old, and frail, and as cruel as he could sometimes be, she loved him. She took a deep breath as the arm reached for her. A large hand closed easily around her small wrist, and then hesitated. A face appeared in the doorway, dark hair, dark eyes, scruffy beard. The man looked her up and down.

"Ye're a woman," he said, in the soft Scottish lilt of the Borderers.

"Last time I looked, yes." Abigail berated herself internally for that quip. She couldn't help herself, never learned to just keep quiet. Well, what will be, will be, she thought.

The man frowned, soft lines appearing in his dirty forehead, and then he laughed.

"Look often do ye?"

"That's none of your business."

"Perhaps not." He rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip as he contemplated her. "I'm going to have to ask ye to come outside."

"Are you going to hurt me?"

"That depends on whether ye give me what I want."

Abigail shuddered. His words were threatening, but his voice was gentle, amused almost. It confused her, but she didn't trust him.

"Kane!" A rough voice rang through the night. "What are ye playing at, man, bring him out."

"It's not a man, it's a lass," said the dark-haired man, and he held his hand out to Abigail, to help her down the steps of the carriage.

She emerged into a scene from hell. Two of her guardsmen lay dead on the ground. The rest were on their knees along with her father and Alasdair. Five huge men, with blackened faces and shining eyes, were standing over the captured men, swords held aloft, as though at the apex of a downstroke that could take the heads off the men in one fell swoop.

Abigail cried out. "Don't hurt my father!"

A smaller man with sharp eyes, and brown hair slicked back from his forehead, stepped forward. He seemed so young, barely out of his teens. He looked Abigail up and down and then leaned in close to her.

"Ye're in no position to tell us what to do," he whispered in a cold voice. He touched Abigail's necklace, cold fingers grazing her chest deliberately. She felt Kane's hand tighten on her arm. The younger man turned the necklace over, examining it. He was so close she could feel his breath on her skin.

"I think I'll have this," he said and ripped the necklace from her. Abigail looked despairingly at Alasdair, to gain his help, but he had his head bowed and wasn't looking at her.

"And this," continued the young man, indicating Abigail with a nod of his head. "Maybe I'll have this as well."

He turned to Kane. "She's a little on the old side, but I'm sure I can get it up, if I think of someone else."

He took hold of Abigail's other arm and pulled her towards him. Kane pulled her back and for a moment she was caught in a tug of war between the two men.

"I'm sure ye could, Murphy," said Kane, "but ye're not going to get the chance."

"Fancy her yourself, do ye? I suppose she is more your age."

"That's right," replied Kane. "I found her. She's mine. Prepare the cattle and fetch the horses while I am gone."

He pulled Abigail roughly over to the side of the road, and into the tall rushes beyond, where they were hidden from the men's view. She stumbled on the uneven ground, her stomach lurching when she thought she was going to fall but Kane still had hold of her arm and he kept her upright, for the moment.

As they moved further into the brush she could hear the burn bubbling close by. She wondered how quickly she could get to it; she'd rather drown than let this man and no doubt all the others have their way with her. They reached a small clearing of tussock grass and ferns. Kane stopped, and let go of her arm.

"Lie down." His voice was firm, commanding.

"I'm not going to help you defile me. If you want me, you'll have to push me down." Abigail was biding time while she thought of an escape route. If she could get a head start on him, she could disappear into the dark, maybe swim across the burn, hide in the tall reedmace that flanked its western side. She started to turn in that direction, her body poised to run. Kane was quicker than her, though. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist again, pulling her in so fast she ended up pressed hard against him. She could smell him, an earthy scent, as smoky and rich as the peat that surrounded them. With his wild beard and unkempt hair he seemed untamed, like the wolves that roamed the moors, but his eyes were different, a deep brown, and sparkling with intelligence. They bored into her now as he spoke.

"I'm not going to defile ye. But we need to make the others think I have."

"What do you mean?"

"Ye need tae lie down and get yer skirts dirty, otherwise they won't believe I had ye."

Abigail was confused; was this some kind of ruse? But why would he bother? If he wanted her, he could just push her down and take her; he was certainly strong enough to do it.

"Are you one of _those_ men?" She knew of men who lay only with men. There were a couple of them in her household. No one talked about it, but it wasn't forbidden.

Kane laughed. "Nae, lass. I just don't get my thrills from taking women against their will." He leaned in close to her. "I don't need to."

"What about the other men? Won't they want their turn?"

"The men will listen to me. I've said ye're mine, and they'll respect that."

"Are you the Heid of this clan?"

"I'm not the Heid, but I'm the second in command. The men will do as I say. Trust me. Now lie down, wiggle about some."

Abigail did as he asked, feeling ridiculous as she rolled around in the earth while he stood, arms folded, watching her.

"Is this amusing you?"

He smiled. "Aye. It is. That's enough now."

He pulled her back to her feet. She looked down at herself. Her skirts were filthy, her stockings black and caked with mud.

"Two more things," said Kane, and before she knew what was happening he'd ripped her bodice open, sending the tiny pearl buttons flying in all directions. She gasped and scrambled to hold the dress back together.

"I'm known to be a breast man," he said, and then he kissed her, hard on the lips, a bruising kiss that sucked all the breath out of her body. After a few seconds that felt like hours, he broke away. He stepped back to look at her, then leaned in to wipe a bead of saliva off her bottom lip with his thumb.

"Now ye look like ye've been taken by the Grey Wolf of the Borders." He laughed, and took her hand, leading her back to the road and the waiting men.

"Wait!"

Kane stopped. "What?"

"Wouldn't you be dirty as well, if you'd really lain with me?"

Kane frowned. "How do ye mean?"

"Your knees. Your knees would be dirty, from straddling me." She didn't know why, but a frisson of excitement ran through her as she said those words.

Kane's eyes darkened. He looked at her. "Do it, then."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Dirty me."

Abigail hesitated, and then realised that since she had brought this idea up, she had to go through with it. She knelt on the ground before him, and gathered mud in her hands; it was cold and silky between her fingers. She lifted his kilt up a little and smeared his bare knees with the dirt. She looked up at him, her heart beating fast for some reason. He was watching her, his thin lips slightly parted. He didn't look as cocky as he had a moment before. He held out his hand and helped her stand. She wiped her hands on her already filthy skirt.

"Now you look like you've been taken by the Lady of Arkholm," she said, and ran ahead of him, making sure to stumble and look distressed as she burst through the rushes.

Kane followed behind, a broad smile on his face.

The clouds had parted and the moon was shining fully on the scene. Alasdair and her father were sitting in the road, back to back with their hands tied. The bullock and the heifers they had bought in Edinburgh were in the hands of Kane's men. Murphy was sat atop a bay-coloured pony, the reins of another horse in his hands.

"That was quick," he said to Kane.

Kane laughed. "She put up a struggle, ye know how I like that."

He pushed Abigail forward so that she was in the middle of the road.

Despite the crudeness of his words, Abigail felt grateful to him. He could have made her seem willing, and that would have destroyed her life. Her husband would kill her for dishonouring his name, she had no doubt about that. It had happened to other women.

Kane mounted his horse, a beast with a rich chestnut brown coat and long, dark mane. "Wait until we're gone before ye release the men," he directed her.

"You'll regret this," shouted Alasdair, as Kane and the men started to move off down the road in the direction of Edinburgh, although she doubted they were going there. They would veer off across the moors at some point, to wherever their camp was.

Kane looked back, and smiled. "I never have so far," he said, and then he urged his horse forward with a kick of his heels. Abigail watched him go until the darkness swallowed him up.

"Abigail. Get these bonds off us." Alasdair's shout brought her back to the present, and she untied the men, checking on her father first. He was dazed and bruised from his fall, but was otherwise unhurt. The carriage had not been damaged and the reivers had left the horses. They had only been interested in the cattle. The three of them resumed their positions in the carriage. Abigail put her cloak on and pulled it tight around her, to hide her bare chest and ripped clothes. She looked at her husband. Alasdair's mouth was set in a thin line. She considered whether to tell him the truth, that nothing had happened, she had not been defiled. The headstrong, rebellious part of her nature came to the fore, however. Alasdair had done nothing to help her. He didn't deserve to know the truth, and maybe if he thought she was now spoiled goods he would leave her alone at night. Her decision made, she stared out into the night as the party made its way back to Arkholm, minus four men and their cattle. The bullock in particular had cost a lot of money in addition to what they had made selling their cows. Alasdair would be fuming about the loss. She had no doubt that the reivers would come to regret what they'd done tonight, despite Kane's arrogant confidence.

After an hour's travel, with nothing but the clip of the horses' hooves and the clatter of the wooden wheels to break the silence, Arkholm Tower appeared out of the gloom, perched on the rock it was hewn from, its pale stone walls shining in the moonlight. Arkholm village, which lay a half mile from the tower itself was quiet as they trooped through it, smoke from the chimneys the only sign that the village was occupied. Abigail watched as the tower grew closer. She couldn't wait to be inside, to get warm and be safe. Looking up, she could just make out the watchmen on the battlements that surrounded the top of the four-storey tower. From their viewpoint, they could see for miles across the moors, south to England, and north to Scotland. Enemies of any kind would be seen long before they could climb the rock and attack the tower. The carriage passed through the barmkin and Abigail was never more relieved to be behind the thick stone walls that protected them from the very types of men they had just encountered on the road. Her head guardsman, Sinclair, came out to greet the carriage. He was shocked to see the state of the occupants.

"What has happened?"

Alasdair alighted, and marched towards the door. "Bloody reivers," he said and disappeared inside.

Sinclair helped her father down from the carriage and then held out his hand to Abigail. She took it with her left hand; she was trying to hold her cloak together with her right hand to hide the worst of her dress from Sinclair. It did not work; he noticed her disarray immediately. His face darkened.

"Oh."

Abigail put her hand on his chest for a brief second. "I'm fine, Sinclair. Really. Please don't worry. Let's get inside."

She entered the tower, and a feeling of overwhelming relief washed over her when the heavy wooden door was closed and the yett fastened behind it. The inner iron gate and the outer wooden door were designed to be impenetrable to enemies of all kinds, of which there were many, be they other clans who wanted their land, or reivers, who wanted their cattle and horses. Despite this, Abigail had felt safe all her life until that night. They had suffered raids before but she had never been personally involved, hadn't understood the terror her men must have felt as they were attacked.

"I'll get Harper to fetch ye some hot water, Mistress," said Sinclair.

"Thank you." The man turned to go down to the cellar. "Oh, Sinclair."

"Yes, My Lady."

"The reivers who attacked us tonight. They did not seem to be of one clan. Their kilts were of many different plaids and colours."

"Ah. That sounds like The Hundred."

"The Hundred? That's not a clan name. I have never heard of them."

"They're a band of outcasts and misfits, My Lady. A more lawless and cruel group of men you could not find. To come away from an encounter with them and have only two dead and…" He hesitated and gestured to her dress. Abigail nodded to show she understood. "Well, we can count ourselves fortunate, My Lady."

"Thank you. What do you know of their leader?"

"A dark-skinned man? He goes by the name Jaha but it is perhaps not his real name. No one knows what clan he is from."

"No, he had dark hair and a beard. He was tall, maybe six foot, and slim. His name was Kane."

Sinclair nodded in recognition of the description. "So, ye met the Grey Wolf of the Borders? He is a legend, Mistress. Marcus Kane, second son of Lord Robert Kane of Weatherton in Dumfriesshire. There are many tales of him."

"He's a clansman?" Abigail was astonished. "What is he doing with the reivers?"

"He was cast out, My Lady. No one knows why, though there are rumours it was over a woman, his brother's wife. Was he the one who did this to you?"

Abigail wrapped her cloak tighter around her. "No. It was not him."

"Very good. Harper will bring yer hot water when it is ready."

"Thank you."

Half an hour later and Abigail was in her bedchamber at the top of the tower. A fire had been lit and she sat in an armchair in front of it as her maid, Harper, washed the worst of the mud from her arms and legs.

"Your dress is ruined, mistress. I dinnae think I can repair it."

"It doesn't matter."

"It was yer favourite."

"It was Lord Alasdair's favourite. I brought some cloth back from Edinburgh. The reivers didn't take it. You can make me a new one."

The warmth of the fire, and Harper's gentle caressing of Abigail's limbs as she ran the cloth over her was lulling her into a reverie. She thought over the events of the night. Why had the man, Kane, saved her? Did he do that to all the women his group encountered, or was it just her? Maybe he didn't find her attractive and his high breeding made him too polite to say. But then he would have let the other men have her. It was all very confusing. How did a man who had been the equal of her husband in society become a lawless reiver? Why did he choose that path amongst all that must have been available to him?

There were so many questions, and Abigail supposed she would have to be content with never knowing. There was no one she felt safe asking about The Hundred, except Sinclair, and he had told her all he knew. She couldn't question him too closely about Kane, it would raise his suspicions, and as much as she trusted him, he was her husband's right hand man, not hers. It wasn't worth the risk.

The door to her chamber banged open, making Harper and Abigail jump. Alasdair strode in.

"Leave us," he said to Harper. The girl gathered up the cloth and water bucket and fled the room.

Abigail began to speak. "Alasdair."

He held up his hand. His green eyes were blazing with anger. "I'm having difficulty looking at you as it is. I don't want to hear you speak."

He pulled her towards the bed and shoved her down on it. "I don't want to have to do this tonight." He pushed her nightclothes up and spread her legs apart. "I have meetings to hold, deals to be struck. But you have lain with another man, and I must take you back." He entered her roughly and she stifled a cry. She wasn't ready; she was never ready. "You are mine." His thrusts were hard, and fast.

"You are mine." Another man had said that to her tonight, a man who wasn't her husband, but who had treated her better than the man who was. She lay back and thought about Marcus Kane, his dark intelligent eyes boring into hers, the roughness of his kiss, which had bruised her lips, the way his fingers had accidentally brushed her breasts when he ripped her bodice open. She closed her eyes to picture him, and felt a small tremor go through her body, like the ones she had sometimes had during her marriage to Jacob, before everything went wrong. Alasdair did not seem to notice, so intent was he on his own pleasure, and for once she was grateful for that. She waited for him to finish, all the time thinking about another man, and realising that she didn't feel guilty about that at all. Not for a single moment.


	2. The Maid O' The Loch

CHAPTER TWO – THE MAID O' THE LOCH

Abigail had been holed up in Arkholm Tower for nearly a week since the incident with the reivers. It wasn't by choice. For the first couple of days, she hadn't wanted to venture outside the safety of the walls. She replayed the encounter with the reivers over and again in her mind, analysing everything they did and said, trying to think of something she could have done to change what had happened, to save her men, and the cattle. Could she have bargained with them? Should she have offered herself in return for the cattle? That wouldn't have been much of a bargain, though. She was worth far less than the cattle, nothing at all, really. She was the property of her husband, but she had no financial value. After hours of turning it over in her mind, the details had started to change so that she no longer knew what was true and what she had invented. She realised there was nothing she could have done, nothing even Alasdair could have done. They were outnumbered, and the reivers were highly skilled at what they did. That knowledge didn't make her feel less guilty, though.

After two days, Abigail had felt ready to go beyond the safety of the barmkin. She was tired of pacing the walls of tower and yard, staring out of windows, sitting by the fire. She wanted to get on her horse, feel the wind in her hair, on her face, stinging her eyes. She wanted to feel alive again. Alasdair had been home most of that time and he didn't like her leaving the tower when he was there. She had to be available to him at a moment's notice, even though in the end he had ignored her completely after that first night. He hadn't even slept in their bedchamber, either preferring to stay on the second floor with his men or with one of his mistresses out in the village. She didn't care. The longer he left her alone, the happier she was.

That morning, when Harper had woken her to help her get dressed, she had given her the news that Lord Griffin had left for Edinburgh. He had been summoned to the Sherriff's Court to attend a number of trials. Abigail's spirits had been lifted immediately, and even more so when she looked out of the window and saw that it was a glorious autumn day, with a pale blue sky and hardly a cloud to be seen. The moors were a carpet of purple flowering heather and yellow gorse as far as she could see. All she needed was an excuse to take out her horse.

She went down to the cellar, where the cook was preparing the day's food. Abigail liked spending time down here. It was warm and aromatic, and there was gossip and good-natured banter amongst the servants. She had an armchair in the corner where she often sat, listening to them talk. When she had first started doing this two years previously, the servants refused to talk, working in silence, so scared that they would let some awful secret slip they chose not to speak at all. Abigail wanted the conversation, longed for it; Clarke was growing up and hardly ever in the tower. She no longer needed her mother and Abigail was lonely. She encouraged the servants to talk by asking them questions, and gradually, as the weeks turned into months and she persisted, they started to put aside who she was, and the kitchen echoed with the sound of chatter and laughter again.

"Good morning, Hannah," said Abigail in greeting to the cook who was a small, dark-haired woman with a grim face set in a permanent scowl. She tolerated Abigail's presence but was always wary, ready to shut the servants up with a bang of her heaviest copper pan if they strayed into treacherous territory with their talk. No discussion of Lord Griffin was ever allowed in the cellar, but most other topics were, within reason. The one thing Hannah could be persuaded to talk about was food. Abigail stood over the pot Hannah was stirring, inhaling its rich scent.

"Is that venison?"

"Yes, My Lady."

"What have we done to deserve this treat?" Venison was a rare meat to have at the dinner table, usually reserved for entertaining important guests.

"One of the lads found the carcass in the forest nearby, My Lady. It was close to being spoiled so I have decided to use it even though Lord Griffin is away."

It was clear that Hannah thought the meat too good to be wasted on the likes of Abigail, but she didn't care. This could present an opportunity.

"May I?" Abigail indicated a spoon that was lying next to the pot. She knew Hannah would hate her tasting the stew before it was finished, but would not be able to refuse.

"Of course, My Lady."

Abby took a spoonful of the liquid, blowing on it before tasting.

"Mmm. Very nice. Juniper would go well with this."

Hannah bristled at the suggestion that her stew could be improved. "Perhaps, but we don't have any, My Lady."

"I know where there is a patch," said Abigail. "I could ride out, it is not far. I will be back before dinner."

"His Lordship would not like that, My Lady."

"No, but he is not here, and it would make your stew the envy of all other households. The servants won't stop talking about it, I'm certain."

Hannah thought for a moment, her brow more furrowed than usual, if that were possible. She nodded. "Juniper would be a good addition. If you are certain you want to go out, My Lady."

"I am. Tell the groomsman to saddle my horse and ask Harper to attend me in my chamber."

Abigail ran up the four floors of winding, spiral staircase as fast as the narrow steps would allow. Harper appeared in the doorway a minute later.

"How may I help, mistress?"

"I'm riding out, Harper. My green dress with the blue brocade would be better than what I am currently wearing, and I need my pouch, the one I use to collect herbs."

"Yes, mistress." Harper helped Abigail out of her formal dress and the many under skirts that helped make it flare out. It was a beautiful dress for floating around the tower in, but not practical for riding in. "Are you going far?"

"On to the moors, not too far." Abigail stepped into the green dress, which was plainer and had no skirts. If it were up to her she would wear dresses like this all the time. She could move more easily in it, and it didn't require a corset so she could breathe as well. Harper laced up the bodice, pulling the threads tight across Abigail's chest.

"Not too tight, Harper." Abigail wanted to be as free as possible in every way. The girl loosened the ties a little, and stepped back to appraise Abigail.

"As pretty as a picture, Mistress."

Abigail smiled. "Thank you. Now let's go and find my horse. Don't forget the pouch."

Within half an hour Abigail was seated on her horse and ready to go when Sinclair came out into the barmkin.

"I'm not happy about this, My Lady."

"I'll be fine, Sinclair. I've done this hundreds of times before."

"I know, but after what happened. I don't think ye should be out on yer own. Let me send one of my men with ye."

"No," said Abigail. The last thing she wanted was to be accompanied. She was so rarely alone, these rides were her one great joy, the one thing she had that belonged solely to her. "It is daylight, I will be safe. The reivers will be fast asleep curled up next to their stolen cattle, I'm certain."

Sinclair shook his head, and for a moment she thought he was going to forbid her to go. He was well below her status in society but as a woman she was seen as a child, and her husband's property. As Alasdair's protector and right hand man he could command her if he wished, and she would have to obey. He had been Jacob's man first, though, and he knew how things were. They never spoke about it, and never could, but Abigail looked into his eyes, silently pleading with him to let her go.

He sighed. "Open the gate," he said to Blake, the groomsman. The young man did as he was told, and Abigail steered her horse, Juno, through, and out into the wider world.

They picked their way carefully down the steep side of the hill and along the grassy slope, down to the millpond. There was no wind and the waters were still. She went to the edge and looked in, seeing a dark reflection of herself and Juno in the water. The horse drank some of the water, disturbing its stillness, and her reflection fractured, distorted pieces of her rippling across the pond. She turned and headed out to the forest, following a well-worn path through the birch and pine trees up onto the hill. The trees became smaller in number and more scattered the higher they climbed until the heather and gorse took over and only a few stunted birch trees remained, clinging stubbornly to the rocky crevices. The wind picked up, but the sun was strong and the wind was warming on her face. It was dangerous terrain up on the moor for the unwary traveller. Ditches crisscrossed the landscape, and tussocks of purple moor grass lay patiently waiting to trip up the careless walker or rider. Abigail and her horse knew the moors well, however, and once they were on the flatter tops, she urged the horse to pick up speed and soon they were flying across the ground, her long braided hair flung out behind her, beating a rhythm against her back as it rose and fell in time with the horse's gallop.

After half an hour of hard riding, she slowed Juno as they came to the edge of a bowl-shaped depression in the landscape where a loch nestled at the bottom. She guided the horse down a rough deer track through the gorse, her excitement rising with every step. This was her favourite place for picking herbs. Heather and blaeberry grew on the dryer slopes, thyme and marjoram round the loch, and there was a patch of juniper on the far slope. The shape of the landscape trapped the sun, and the water of the loch was just about warm enough to bathe in, even in late September.

As she reached the floor of the basin, she was dismayed to see another horse grazing on the far side of the loch. She knew other people must know about this place, but she had never seen anyone here in the ten years since she had found this paradise. She dismounted and tethered Juno to a small willow tree. She wouldn't normally bother but she didn't want her getting spooked or chasing off after this unknown horse. Feeling apprehensive she walked along the edge of the water towards the horse. As she got closer she could see it was a pony, a lot smaller than Juno, and with its chestnut coat and black legs it was clearly one of the Galloway Nags the reivers liked to ride. A bolt of fear ran through her. She turned to run back to Juno and standing right behind her was the reiver from the other night, Marcus Kane, the Grey Wolf. A black and white border collie dog stood at his feet, looking up at him expectantly. She had not heard Kane at all, and she was so shocked she couldn't speak. Her hand went to her mouth involuntarily, as though she could hide her surprise.

"We meet again," said Kane, in that same amused voice he had when he first put his head round the carriage door.

Shock turned to indignation, and gave her a newfound confidence. How dare he creep up on her like that?

"Do you get a thrill out of frightening people?"

Kane smiled. "It depends on the person." He took a step back, sweeping his arm theatrically to indicate she may pass.

Abigail moved past him so that she was on the side closer to her horse, should she need to run. For some reason, though, now that the shock had subsided, she didn't feel nervous at all. Kane's wry smile, his eyes twinkling in his suntanned face, made him seem less threatening somehow. She didn't relax, though. She knew to her own cost how quickly a smile can turn to a scowl, a gentle hand to a fist.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I was going to bathe. If ye'd arrived a few moments later, ye might have found me in a state of undress."

Abigail took in his appearance properly for the first time during this encounter. His kilt was the blue-green tartan of his clan and he was wearing a white loose-fitting shirt with a V-neck that tied at the chest like her bodice did. The ties were undone, as though he had indeed been about to disrobe. His chest was visible beneath, bare apart from a line of feathery hairs that ran down the cleft between his pectoral muscles, which she could tell were strong and well-defined, even though they were mostly hidden by his shirt. Her face grew warm as blood rushed to her cheeks.

Kane noticed her discomfort, and continued. "Have I disturbed yer private place, My Lady? Were ye hoping to bathe as well? Don't let me stop ye."

She thought he would do the gentlemanly thing and leave her alone but instead he settled down on a patch of heather, his dog by his side, and opened his leather pouch, taking out a small object wrapped in cloth. Abigail watched as he unrolled the cloth to reveal a lump of hard white cheese known as whitemeats. It was a rough-made version of the Pecorino cheese she had eaten at clan gatherings at Edinburgh Castle. The Italian cheese was extremely popular but very expensive. Most borderers couldn't afford it and the shepherds had realised this and made a small living on the side making a version from the milk of the ewes they were guarding. Kane lay this to one side and took out another cloth which contained a batch of rough oatcakes. He proceeded to break a piece of the cheese off and eat it with an oatcake.

He looked up at Abigail as he chewed. "Mmm, delicious. Would ye like some?"

"I'm not hungry," said Abigail, which was a lie, because she was starving after her ride across the moors.

"Not good enough for ye, is it? Too used to the real thing, I suspect. Archie isn't so fussy, are ye lad?" He gave a small lump of cheese to the dog, who swallowed it without even chewing it.

"I'm no more used to it than you are."

"Ah." Kane nodded his head slowly. "So, ye know who I am?"

"I have heard something of you, yes."

"Heard, or did ye ask about me?"

Abigail was flustered. Why did this man have the confidence to talk to her like this? And how did he seem to know what she was thinking?

"Have no fear. I am merely teasing ye." He patted the ground next to him. "Sit for a moment. Indulge a fellow traveller with some conversation. Then I promise I will leave ye to yer peace."

Abigail sat down on a grass-covered rock opposite him. This time, when he offered her the cheese and biscuit, she took it. The cheese was salty, with a delicate flavour. It was also extremely hard. She struggled to bite a piece off.

"Ye have to suck it first, to soften it. And ye need good gnashers." Kane flashed her a grin that revealed strong, white teeth.

Abigail sucked on the cheese as he instructed, keeping her eyes lowered so she could not see him watching her. If her face got any warmer she thought the blood vessels might explode.

Kane was mercifully silent while they ate and Abigail began to regain her composure as she concentrated on the tweets of the willow warblers and reed buntings. She risked a look at him. He was staring into the distance, out across the loch and beyond to the hills. His beard looked neater than when she'd first seen him, as though he had trimmed it. The black was peppered with grey and there were a few silver threads in his hair as well, which was still too long and flopped in his eyes. He brushed a curl back absentmindedly as she watched.

He surprised her by speaking. "I am at a disadvantage."

"How so?"

"Ye know who I am, but I do not know your name, except ye are the Lady of Arkholm who took me so roughly in the rushes last sevenday."

Abigail smiled, she couldn't help it as she remembered what she had said after she dirtied his knees. She still didn't know where the courage had come from to answer him as she had.

"Your knees are clean I see. You have not defiled any ladies in the last week, then?"

"I would never defile a woman, as I told ye, not unless she wanted me to. Ye are avoiding my question. What should I call thee?"

"You do not need to call me anything, for we shall not meet again after today, but if you must know, I am the Lady Abigail Griffin of Arkholm."

"Abigail." Kane rolled her name around his mouth as though he were savouring a fine whisky. "Abby," he said.

"No one calls me Abby."

"What, never?"

"Not since I was a child."

Kane pursed his lips. "That's a shame. It's a beautiful name. Abby. A place of worship."

Abigail rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. How long have you been planning that line?"

Kane laughed. "Ever since I met thee. Is the game up?"

Abigail frowned. "You didn't know who I was back then."

"Oh, I did. I know everything about the people we… encounter. Their habits, the things they don't want other people to know."

"Then you knew I would be in the carriage?" Abigail didn't know what to make of this information. He had seemed genuinely surprised to see her. Was everything he said a lie?

"No, no. That was a surprise. I was expecting his right-hand man to be with him. It must have been a last-minute idea of yer husband to take ye instead."

Abigail thought back to that week. Alasdair had indeed informed her at the last minute that he wanted her to accompany him. She had barely had enough time to pack for the journey. Another thought occurred to Abigail.

"How did you know I would be here? Are you following me?"

"I follow everybody, Abby." He must have seen a look of consternation on her face because he held his hand up to calm her. "Fear not, I am not following ye, although I will confess I have made some enquiries about ye. I knew this was yer favourite place and I may have visited it a time or two since we met."

Abigail was astonished. "Why would you do that?"

"Why did ye enquire after me?"

"I was curious."

"As was I. No woman has ever spoken to me as ye did."

Abigail didn't know how to respond. It was so long since anyone had taken an interest in anything she did or said she was at a loss to know what to say, or think, or feel. She finally found her voice.

"I don't know why I said that."

"Don't ye?"

"No. Well, you were so arrogant."

"That has been said about me."

"I am not surprised."

Kane raised his eyebrows in amusement. "So ye wished to turn the tables, to let me have a taste of my own medicine."

"I didn't really think about it. The words just came out."

"It is your nature."

"What is?"

"To be contrary."

"Why is it contrary in a woman but forceful in a man?"

Kane shrugged. "It is the way of the world. I like it, though."

"What?"

"Your nature."

"Then you are alone. I have been supressing it ever since I was a child. It is not becoming in a woman to have a mind, as I have learned to my cost."

"That is indeed a pity; ye have a beautiful mind. I would like to get to know it better."

Abigail wasn't convinced by his words. There was something flippant about them; as though he was teasing her.

"Do you use these lines on all the women you meet?"

Kane shook his head, a serious look on his face. "I have never met a woman like thee."

Abigail didn't know how to deal with this man, what to say to him. She had to remind herself he was a thief, and a killer. She shouldn't trust anything he said. She decided it was time to bring this conversation to a close.

"I must get on. I have herbs to collect and I am expected back at the tower. I don't wish to cause them to come looking for me."

She stood up, and Kane did the same, gathering his belongings together. He took a grey woollen jacket from where he had hung it on a tree branch, and pulled it on.

"I do not wish to delay ye, or get ye into trouble."

"Then I shall wish you good day. Thank you for the meal." Abigail started to head down the path towards where the juniper bushes were located when Kane spoke again.

"I almost forgot." He withdrew an object from his pouch. "Hold out yer hand."

Abigail hesitated, but then held out her hand. What was he going to do, chop it off? Kane dropped the object into her palm.

"I thought ye might want this back. I saw how distressed ye were when it was taken from ye."

Abigail looked at what he had given her, it was the cross that Murphy had ripped from her neck during the raid. Tears sprang to her eyes and a lump came to her throat, not just because she was seeing the necklace again when she thought it was lost forever, but because of the kindness of Kane's actions. She swallowed, trying to push down the many feelings that were fighting within her.

"I. I can't take this."

"Of course ye can. It's yours. We never should have taken it from ye."

"You did not take it."

"What the men do under my command is my responsibility. Please take it."

"No, I really can't. What if my husband finds it? I can't wear something that was stolen from me. He will wonder how I came by it."

"I did not think of that." Kane took the necklace from her. "Then I shall keep it, here, next to my heart, and I will think of ye with every beat." He slipped the cross into the breast pocket of his jacket and patted it.

Abigail shook her head, and laughed. "You think you have a way with words, don't you?"

"Oh, I do, Abby. I have written many a ballad about my adventures. Perhaps I shall write one about thee for next time we meet. A ballad about how I met the maid o' the loch."

Abigail sighed. "We can't meet again. It is not appropriate."

"No, perhaps it is not. But If I am here, and ye are here, and we accidentally cross paths, then it would be rude not to at least say good morning."

"I would not wish to be rude to you, when you have done me so many kindnesses."

"Then that is settled. I cannot be certain, but I expect I may be passing this way at the same time this sevenday. Come, Archie." He whistled for the dog and it trotted over to his side. Kane put his foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over the pony. Abby caught a glimpse of slim, muscled thigh and then his kilt settled over the back of the horse obscuring her view.

Kane urged the horse forward. As it started to move, he turned to look back at Abigail. "May we meet again."

Abigail watched as he disappeared into the gorse. "We will," she whispered, and her stomach flipped at the thought. Take a hold of yourself, Abigail, don't get carried away with this man, she told herself. She walked to the other side of the loch, to where she knew the juniper grew, and found it half way up the slope, in a hollow. She picked a few leaves and berries, putting them in her pouch, and then returned to her horse, ready to go back to the tower and her real life.

As she rode back over the moors she ran through the events of the last hour in her mind. There was so much to consider, she felt overwhelmed. She had never met a man like Kane in her life. He was so confident, and arrogant, waiting for her, somehow knowing what she was thinking and feeling, how she would act. He had even named her, calling her Abby, a name she had not used since she was a child. Even Jacob had called her Abigail. It was not appropriate for Kane to choose what to call her, and yet she didn't think he did it because he wished to own her, or mark her in some way. He simply liked it, and a part of her did too. She was already starting to think of herself as two people. There was Abigail, Lady of Arkholm, dutiful wife, a woman who lived in the shadows, barely causing a fluttering in the breeze. And now there was Abby, the maid o' the loch, a woman whose nature didn't have to be supressed, who could be as free as the wind, as wild as the heather. She shook her head to clear it. She was getting fanciful, and all because a man had been kind to her. A handsome, intriguing man, yes, but a man all the same. There was nothing different at heart between him and her husband. He just knew the right things to say, that was all. She was not going to return to the loch the following sevenday. Nothing good would come of it, of that she was certain. She spurred her horse on ever faster, determined to put Marcus Kane out of her mind for good.


	3. Feast and Fight

CHAPTER THREE – FEAST AND FIGHT

Arkholm Tower, Roxburghshire

The first two days following Abigail's second encounter with Marcus Kane passed quickly. Alasdair had sent word from Edinburgh that he would be returning for two nights with the Lords Elliot and Douglas and they would require a banquet. Abigail spent a lot of time in the kitchen with Hannah, choosing the foods that would be served, organising the purchase of specialist items from the market in Kelso. She would have liked to have gone to Kelso herself to help the servants pick the sweet treats and wine they would have with the banquet but Sinclair was still uneasy about her leaving the tower. She didn't want to waste what might be her only chance on a visit to the town when she might need to visit the loch again in a few days. Not that she was really going to go and see Kane. She had decided that it would be a mistake and she was resolute on that, but there might be a reason she would need to see him, even if it was to tell him they could not meet again. It was better to save up the day, just in case.

Abigail had also spent time with Harper, designing a new dress to replace the one Kane had ripped. She was tempted to make something simpler, that she could move in more easily, but Alasdair would expect the dress to rival the previous one, so she and Harper had gone all out to create a dress that would show off Abigail's best assets in spectacular fashion. She wanted the Lords to be unable to take their eyes off her, wanted Alasdair to see that other men found her desirable. The material was blue silk again but a deep blue this time, like the sky on the warmest of summer days. Harper said it made Abigail's eyes as brown as a salmon river and that had made her laugh. It was a compliment even if it didn't sound like one. Harper was in Abigail's bed chamber, busy sewing the dress together. The last time Abigail had looked in on her the girl was threading the delicate mother of pearl buttons that only just held the bodice in place. Her mind drifted again to the moment in the rushes when Kane had stripped the buttons off the previous dress. She wondered what he would make of its replacement, not that he would ever get to see it; but if he did, she thought he would like it very much indeed.

On the third day, Alasdair arrived with the Lords, their wives and retinues. It was a large number of people to accommodate in a relatively small tower. All of the Griffin servants, with the exception of the guards, had been billeted in the village for the duration and the second floor had been given over to the guests. The first floor had been laid out for banqueting, the long oak table covered with a cream cloth. A claret-coloured runner with the crest of the Griffin clan embroidered in golden thread ran down the centre. Abigail had chosen the large wooden candlesticks with the griffin heads carved into them and these had been lit, the tall, waxy candles bringing a soft light into the room. Alasdair was proud of his name and crest, loved showing it off to visitors. The mythological Griffin was a powerful and majestic creature and she suspected that was how Alasdair saw himself. Abigail thought the lion and the eagle that made up the griffin were indeed appropriate. Both were creatures that dominated by devouring everyone beneath them.

Earlier in the day, Abigail and Harper had been out on the moor that surrounded the tower to pick the purple heather and this was adorning the rooms, adding extra colour to complement the wall hangings and tapestries that gave the stone walls some warmth. The heather also filled the rooms with its delicate perfume. Abigail walked through the room one last time before the feast, running her fingers over the smooth damask of the tablecloth. Everything looked perfect; she hoped Alasdair would be pleased.

The Cheviot Hills, 20 miles south of Arkholm

On the evening of the Griffins' banquet, Kane was at The Hundred's camp in the Cheviot Hills south of Jedburgh. The camp was substantial with twenty buildings to house the men. The houses were long and narrow and followed an age-old design. The frames were made from tree trunks the men cut down from the nearby forest and erected into the shape of an A, with walls of thin willow branches woven between stakes. This simple frame was covered with mud, clay and cow dung which hardened to provide protection from wind and rain. The roofs were thatched with heather collected from the moor. Being made entirely from natural materials obtained from their surroundings, the houses could be erected quickly and abandoned in a moment should the camp be discovered. As Second in Command of the group, Kane had a house to himself, as did their leader, Jaha, but the other men lived five or six to a dwelling.

Night had fallen and Kane was sat at a rough-made table in his dwelling, his head bent over a piece of paper he was attempting to read by the poor light of a single candle. He was checking an inventory of their latest acquisitions. In the last month, the Hundred had stolen two hundred head of cattle, eighty horses, one thousand sheep and fifty bolls of corn plus jewels and a small amount of cash. Most of the animals had already been sold on but the money they had made was not enough. It was never enough. It cost a lot of money to feed a hundred people, even when those people lived mainly hand to mouth and survived on potage, the thick soup that sustained most of the poorer borderers, whether they be reivers or legitimate farmers. The soup contained whatever came to hand, mainly cereal, roots and fungi sometimes supplemented with the meat from small animals and birds they hunted. The sheep they plundered were too valuable to go into the pot, but if they came across a dead sheep on their travels, that was butchered and went in too. The large pot that was kept permanently on the fire in the main house had not seen any meat for three weeks now and the men were starting to complain.

Low down on the inventory, towards the bottom of the final page, was a note of Abby's necklace. Murphy had recorded its acquisition before Kane had managed to steal it back, and he now had the problem of explaining its disappearance. The cross was valuable, worth nearly as much as all the animals they had taken from the Lord of Arkholm. Kane bristled at the thought of that man. Alasdair Griffin had a reputation that Kane was keenly aware of and he had seen the man's callousness for himself on the night of the raid. He had ignored his wife as she was robbed and roughly-handled by Murphy, hadn't even looked up when Kane brought her back from supposedly ravaging her. If he hadn't known how it would have destroyed Abby, he would have gloated to her cold-hearted husband about how good it was to have his wife.

Kane patted the breast pocket of his jacket, feeling the cross within. If anyone asked, he would just have to feign ignorance of its loss. He wasn't going to accuse any of the other reivers of theft because that would lead to their execution. The rules of the Hundred clan were very clear. All crimes committed against the clan by its members were punishable by death. It was the only way to maintain order amongst a group of thieves and murderers.

Kane put aside the inventory and took out a fresh piece of parchment. He had been trying to compose his ballad to the maid o' the loch since he had seen her two days before, but the words wouldn't come. He could describe her long golden-brown hair and her eyes that were the colour of the poteen that was distilled secretly in the hills, deep brown and peaty, but he couldn't capture the spirit of her that had so captivated him. She was demure on the surface, probably lived her life barely causing a ripple, but underneath there was a wildness, and a deep intelligence. It was there in those whisky-coloured eyes if you looked closely enough, a spark, a wit. She looked at him as though she could see right through him, and her wry smile said challenge me if you dare. No woman had ever looked at Kane like that. They were either scared of him, whether it was warranted or not, or they wanted the Grey Wolf to bed them, and give them something to gossip about with the other Ladies. Kane had cuckolded many a Lord of the Realm while they were blissfully unaware of what their wives were doing. Abby was different, though. She wasn't a conquest, at least not in that way. He hadn't been feeding her a line when he said he wanted to get to know her mind better. He did. If he got to know the rest of her as well, then he suspected that would be a definite bonus.

There was a creak as the door to his house swung open. Kane turned to find the Heid of The Hundred clan, a man known only as Jaha, standing in the doorway. Jaha was as much a mystery to the border people as Kane the Grey Wolf was a legend. Kane knew little about him, except that his ancestors had come to England from north Africa after the Crusades and somehow had ended up in Scotland. Mistrusted because of the colour of their skin, they were a family of thieves, living on the edge of society. Jaha had a strong intelligence, and a strategic mind. He had prospered as a lone reiver because he was ruthless and was known to leave no man standing. He had seen the advantage the clans and surnames of the Borders had in working together, and had put together his own clan, The Hundred, five years previously. There were always a hundred men in the clan, no more, no less. Kane didn't know why that was and he had decided not to question it. Jaha and The Hundred came along at the right time, when Kane was on his knees after being thrown out of his ancestral home and stripped of his title and everything he had ever known. Kane had not prospered on his own as Jaha had; good looks and wit didn't get you far when you were an outcast, and he was penniless, starving, and in poor health, about to give up, when Jaha offered him a place in the clan. A company of other outcasts had seemed like the perfect solution at the time, and Kane had felt lucky that a position became available just when he needed it most.

"Sir. Good evening. Come in." Kane gestured for Jaha to take the chair opposite him and the man sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him, making himself at home. "Would ye like a wee dram, Sir?"

"I would, Kane. Thank you."

Kane poured the rough poteen into two small flagons and handed one to Jaha, taking the other for himself. He held the flagon aloft. "Slàinte mhath."

"Slàinte."

Both men took a sip of the whisky to seal the greeting and then Jaha spoke.

"I need you to lead a party of men to Newcastle. You leave tonight."

Kane was surprised. A raid so far across the border into England was a rare activity for The Hundred. Newcastle was at the eastern end of the old Roman Emperor Hadrian's wall and was firmly in the hands of the English. It was also over a hundred miles there and back, and a further twenty miles from their camp to the loch where he was planning to meet Abby four days hence. He would never make the journey in time.

"Sir, are ye sure? What is there for us in Newcastle?"

"I have heard there is a company of the King's men encamped outside the town attending a conclave. They have six English Lords with them. They will fetch a good ransom. I want you to capture the men and bring them back to camp."

"A company of the King's men? They will likely number thousands. We are so few. It is not possible, Sir."

"I have faith in you, Kane. You are known for shedding little blood on your raids and in this case, that is exactly what I want. I'm sure you will find a way to extract the men without causing another war."

Kane knew he could argue no more. Jaha's decisions were always final, and Kane was fortunate that the older man indulged his occasional questioning. No other clansman was afforded that right.

"I will organise the men."

"Good man. Safe return." Jaha drained his whisky and left. Kane stood for a moment, hands on hips, trying to come up with a way to rob the King's company without thousands of his men realising it had happened. There had to be a way, and he knew just the person who could help. He called his boy in.

"Go and find The Raven. Bring him to me, then tell Murphy to prepare the usual crew and six extra horses."

A couple of minutes later and the boy returned with a small, slim young man with long dark hair tied in a ponytail. He gave Kane a cocky smile.

"I am at yer service, Kane. What can these magic hands do for ye tonight?"

"Get in here, Raven." Kane looked around to see if anyone was listening, then pulled the man into the room and shut the door. "One day ye're going to go too far with this joke and someone will guess the truth."

Raven shrugged. "They're too stupid to realise."

"No, they're not. Not all of them. Murphy, for example." He shook his head. "Never mind that now. It's yer brain I need tonight."

"Primed and ready. Feed me."

"We're headed to Newcastle for a raid. We must steal six English Lords from under the nose of thousands of the King's men without shedding any blood and without anyone noticing. Thoughts?"

"Woah, Kane. That's big."

"It is. We can't go in fighting. There are twenty of us and thousands of them."

"Ye'd be dead within seconds."

"Aye, thanks, Raven."

"Well, it's the truth. We need to be like shadows in the dark, unseen."

"But how? It would be best if we could take them while they were asleep, but their guards will be awake. We'd never get them out."

"Where are the Lords housed?"

"We don't have that information yet. I'm sending scouts ahead to find out, but if they follow tradition the Lords will be in two pavilions together with their attendants and guards. There may be forty or more men in the pavilions and ten times that surrounding them."

Raven was quiet. Kane knew better than to disturb him when he got like this. Something was brewing in his brilliant mind.

"We dinnae need to take out all the men, just the ones guarding the Lords."

"I suppose, if we can get to the pavilions without the other guards noticing."

"Hmm. I've been experimenting with something that might work."

Kane felt hope rising. "What is it?"

"There's nae guarantee it will work. If it goes wrong, we'll be defenceless. They'll kill us."

"Just another day in the Borders, then. Tell me."

An hour later and the raiding party were mounted and ready to go. Kane had sent his scouts Jordan and Green ahead to find out the exact layout of the encampment. He was filled with anticipation for the task ahead. Raven's scheme was so audacious, Kane suspected ballads would be written about it, and sung long after the sun had set on all their sorry lives. If it was successful, that was. He spurred his pony forward with a kick of his heels. They had to do this, and quickly. He had four and a half days to get to Newcastle, pull off the raid of the century, return victorious, and get to the loch to meet Abby. What could possibly go wrong? He laughed into the black night as he galloped south to Newcastle, and whatever his fate was going to be.

Arkholm Tower

Darkness fell early in Scotland at the end of September and as the feast commenced, the banqueting room was bathed in the warm glow of the candles. Alasdair was seated at one end of the table, Abigail at the opposite end. The Lords were next to Alasdair, their wives next to Abigail. Alasdair had not mentioned her dress, had barely looked at her when he entered the room with his guests. Lady Margaret Elliot had given her a disapproving stare but Abigail didn't care. Margaret was old, at least sixty, and she disapproved of most things, according to her sources. Lady Eleanor Douglas was younger, thirty-something, and extremely pretty, with long brown hair that was thick and curled, and blue eyes that rivalled Abigail's dress for depth of colour. She had given Abigail a smile and the vaguest raise of an eyebrow which Abigail took as a positive comment on her appearance. She shouldn't care so much, really, what other people thought, but someone who is starving will take even the smallest crumb. Abigail hated that she felt this way. She made small talk with the Ladies and was glad when the servants brought the food in; she was running out of things to say quickly and there were still hours of eating and drinking to go. The first course was a potage with the meat of pheasants and woodcocks caught in the wood down in the valley, flavoured with sage and thyme. Social etiquette was very important to Alasdair and the guests helped themselves to the food in a strict order, with the Heid of the household first, followed by the male guests, their wives and finally Abigail. She spooned the thick soup into her trencher and waited for Alasdair to start eating before taking a sip of the piping hot liquid. It was delicious, nicer than the venison stew they had been treated to a few days previously, rich and gamey, the sauce heady with red wine and herbs.

Lady Eleanor was seated to Abigail's left and she placed a hand on Abigail's. "I had heard your cook had a good reputation, Abigail, but none of the compliments touch the reality. This is delicious."

"Thank you, Eleanor. Hannah has been with the household many years. Since before me, in fact."

"You are lucky. My cook could burn water, I swear." She laughed, and Abigail smiled.

"Yes, I am lucky." She looked across the table to where Alasdair was holding forth with the men. They were all laughing as he told an amusing story. He was at his best when he was home in his kingdom, surrounded by a world that was ordered to his liking, ready to attend his every need. She supposed she was lucky; there were worse lives to be leading, much worse.

"I believe you recently had a son, Eleanor. My congratulations." Harper had given Abigail all the information she had on the guests, whom Abigail had never met before tonight. Servants were the best source of information in the land, she had found.

"Oh, yes. Thank you. We have named him William. Henry was delighted. Finally, a son after two daughters."

"A son is always a blessing," said Margaret. "I have three. All married of course, with children of their own. You have only a daughter, I hear."

A shiver ran through Abigail. She always hated this subject arising.

"I do, yes, Clarke. She's eighteen now."

"And not yet married?"

"Not yet."

"Hmm. And she is from your first marriage?" Margaret looked at Alasdair and Abigail knew what she was thinking, what they all thought. She repeated the words she had said so many times over the years.

"Yes. Unfortunately, I was not able to have more children. After Clarke." There, Alasdair dissolved of blame. It was Abigail's responsibility, her fault, her shame.

"You were fortunate then, that a man like Alasdair married you. A man needs sons."

Abigail nodded but did not speak. She was trying not to think about what she had lost, what she could never have again.

"To know the joy of any child is a blessing, I believe," said Eleanor and Abigail gave her a grateful look.

"I would not be without Clarke for anything." She stared at Margaret, willing her to respond, but the older woman harrumphed and took another sip of her soup.

The second course passed by in similar fashion, with Abigail mostly ignoring Margaret and swapping details of life in the Borders with Eleanor. It wasn't until the custards, tarts and fruit came along that the conversation around the rest of the table became interesting. Wine had liberated the tongues of all the guests, and conversation was flowing freely, particularly among the men. Abigail was getting tired; too much meat and wine always made her sleepy, and she was staring at the flickering candle, drifting away a little when the conversation turned to the raid on the road from Edinburgh.

"I believe you were accosted by reivers, Alasdair," said Lord Elliot. "Did they take much of value?"

Alasdair grimaced. "Everything I had bought in Edinburgh. A bullock and heifers I was planning to breed. Damned nuisance that Hundred Clan."

Don't forget your wife, thought Abigail. They took her too, and her necklace. Of course, she knew Alasdair would not mention that, but he didn't even look at her, or share a glance to recognise that she was there, to mark a common experience.

"I heard it was The Hundred, led by that man Kane," continued Lord Elliot.

"They call him the Grey Wolf," said Lord Douglas.

"The Grey Wolf!" Alasdair spat some dregs of his wine back into his cup. The servant brought him a new cup, filled it to the brim. "He's nothing but a common thief and a murderer."

Lord Douglas nodded. "I have heard the ballads the people sing about him. What does it go like? 'The Grey Wolf prowls the purple moor, and robs the rich to pay the poor'."

"I'm sure he writes those ballads himself, to perpetuate the legend. The only poor he gives to are his own sorry clan of outlaws." Alasdair took a long draught of his wine.

Abigail had woken up fully by now. Her heart was beating faster and there was a quivering in her stomach. She tried not to look too interested, though, using the candle flame to focus her mind, so her thoughts wouldn't wander and be betrayed in her face.

"Why do they call him the Grey Wolf?" asked Margaret.

"Because he is a beast," replied Alasdair, "a low, creeping scourge on this region."

"He brutalised his brother's wife, my dear. That is the rumour. That is why his father cast him out of the house. He lost everything." Lord Elliot patted his wife's arm, to soothe the shock that was clear in her face.

"His brother's wife? Oh, my!"

Abigail's whole body became cold, as though an ice wind had blown through her and frozen her solid. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Sinclair had hinted at this, but she had suspected it had perhaps been an affair, not something so terrible as this. The thought of him doing that to his brother's wife, his sister almost. It didn't reconcile with the man who had refused to touch her when he could so easily have had her, who had saved her, and searched her out to return her necklace. Perhaps he had changed, or perhaps it was a ruse all along, a game. He meant to woo her, and then ruin her reputation.

"The whole clan are known for that kind of thing during their raids," said Lord Elliot.

A heavy silence descended. Everyone turned to look at Abigail and she went from cold to hot in an instant. Alasdair cleared his throat.

"They tried, but I saw them off. They were no match for the old Griffin claymore," he said, indicating the great two-handed broad sword that hung on the wall.

"It is all conjecture," said Lord Douglas. "No one knows the true reason for his disgrace. His family refuse to speak of it."

"Whatever the truth, he does have a reputation as a Lady's man. He's well practised, from what I hear." Eleanor giggled and winked at Abigail. She was clearly under the influence of too much wine. Abigail did not wink back, didn't dare to even move a muscle of her face. Alasdair was watching her intently.

"That's enough, Eleanor." Lord Douglas gave his wife a stern look of admonishment.

"He won't be bedding women for much longer, with or without their consent," said Alasdair. "I have plans for Marcus Kane. He'll be swinging from the gallows before this year is out. You have my word."

Abigail kept her face as still as she could but inside she was in turmoil. If he was truly such a beast, a man who would defile his own brother's wife, then he deserved the gallows. And yet, she had seen with her own eyes his kindness, his warmth and humour.

"It's time we brought the reivers to account, I agree," said Lord Douglas. He turned to his wife. "Perhaps it is time you retired, my dear."

Abigail saw an opportunity to escape the room which had now become suffocating. "I will escort My Lady to her chamber."

"Thank you."

"You may retire as well, if you wish." Alasdair and the men stood.

"Thank you. I will. Good night."

As she helped Eleanor up the narrow stairs to her bedchamber, she decided to risk asking her a question in the hope that she would not remember the conversation the next day.

"The Grey Wolf's reputation. With women. How do you know of it?"

Eleanor leaned forward, swaying a little and Abigail gripped her more tightly. She didn't want her falling down the stairs.

"You must keep this to yourself. A friend of mine, a Lady, had cause to meet him. There was a gathering. No one knew he was an outlaw. She took a liking to him. She has the most boring husband, bless her." Eleanor swayed again. "Oops."

Abigail steered them to a wider step. "Please continue."

"She arranged a rendezvous, while her husband was away." Eleanor bent her head, so her mouth was close to Abigail's ear. "She said he was a wolf in every way." She giggled, her warm boozy breath tickling Abigail's face.

"But his brother's wife. If the rumours are true. How could your friend lay with him?"

"Who says the rumours are true? My dear Abigail. Nobody knows, and that's the thrill."

Abigail helped Eleanor into bed and retired to her own chamber. She had decided before tonight that she was not going to meet Kane at the loch. After everything she had heard, the last thing on her mind should be the thought of seeing him again, and yet he was all she could think of. She had to see him, had to know the truth, to ask him herself. What had happened with his brother's wife? Why was he called the Grey Wolf? Would he tell her the truth? How would she know? There was only one way to find out.

Newcastle, 70 miles south of Arkholm

It had taken Kane's party two nights to reach Newcastle. They had started out in the early hours and rode twenty miles through the dark until the dawn's early light had made them too visible to continue. They had holed up in a makeshift camp near Otterburn, scene of the famous battle and the defeat of the English by the Scots nearly a hundred years before. A glorious victory it may have been, but Kane had heard the Ballad of Otterburn sung many times, and he knew it had not ended well for the Scots' leader, Earl Douglas, who had foreshadowed his own death in a dream.

 _But I have dream'd a dreary dream,  
Beyond the Isle of Skye;  
I saw a dead man win a fight,  
And I think that man was I. _

Kane hoped he would not suffer the same fate as the Earl and had been thankful for a dreamless sleep.

Thirty more miles of riding through the night and they were now camped next to the ancient Roman wall at Walbottle, just four miles from the King's conclave on the north bank of the River Tyne, beneath Arthur's Hill. Kane was desperate to get the mission underway; it had taken them longer to reach this point than he had anticipated. Their small Galloway nags were used to difficult terrain but long distance riding took its toll and they had to make their way slowly, and let the ponies take plenty of rest. It was frustrating but they couldn't launch the raid during the day anyway, and Raven needed time to gather the rest of what was needed for the task. Kane settled back against the crumbling stone wall, closed his eyes and let himself drift away with thoughts of Abby. If they were quick tonight, he might just make it back in time to see her.

As the sun was setting on the second day, Kane led his men along the line of the wall towards Newcastle. Jordan and Green, the scouts he had sent ahead, had reported that the King's men were encamped at the eastern edge of Arthur's Hill, the Lords being in two separate pavilions as Kane had predicted. The six extra horses they needed to transport the captives away were laden down with the equipment Raven had made and collected. Raven rode up to Kane and trotted alongside him, a look of nervous excitement on his face.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" asked Kane.

"Not at all. I would be more surprised if we succeeded." Raven laughed. "Having to mix the gas at the last minute is very risky. So much could go wrong."

"Like what?" Kane wanted to be prepared for every eventuality.

"It could explode, and wipe us off the face of the earth."

"Oh." Not much he could do about that, thought Kane. The more dangerous the task seemed, the less he thought they had to lose. They might as well give it everything they had or die trying.

When they reached the outskirts of the camp the men unloaded the ponies and left them loosely tethered to tree stumps. They moved the equipment as close as they dared to the pavilions. The camp was quiet, with only a couple of guards patrolling this section of the perimeter. Kane knew there were more guards inside the pavilions, though, and some of them would still be awake, taking shifts to protect the Lords. He had deliberately chosen this time of night, long past the witching hour and a couple of hours before dawn. He knew from experience that this was the time people were at their least alert. Those who were asleep would be so deep into their slumber they would likely not even be dreaming, and would be slow to wake. The guards would think themselves alert, but they were only halfway so, their reactions would be slow. He had seen it time and time again.

The perimeter guards met up with their counterparts on the adjacent section of the camp at regular intervals. Kane had watched it happen twice now and knew exactly how long they had before the guards would be missed and the alarm raised all over camp. It wasn't very much time at all. His men were in place, waiting for his signal. He took a deep breath. It was all or nothing. He raised his sword and at this sign Murphy and Armstrong crept up on the guards and struck each of them on the head, knocking them down. The bodies were dragged towards the reivers where they were tied together, cloths put into their mouths to prevent them shouting if they awakened before the task was completed. Jaha had wanted little bloodshed, and Kane was determined to give it to him. As soon as the guards were down, Raven began unrolling a length of pipe he had made. It was round like the clay pipes that ran beneath some of the old Roman cities, only it was made of seal skin and was narrow, no more than a flagon's width across, and flexible. When he had shown it to Kane earlier, he had been amazed by it. It was cold and smooth to the touch. Raven had said it would keep the gas inside so it wouldn't disappear into the night air. Kane wasn't sure how they would know the gas was inside the pipe because Raven said it couldn't be seen. He had to trust him, as he had many times before.

Raven placed the pipe at the edge of the closest pavilion, coiled at the end as it would need to be extended under the cloth when they were ready. At the other end of the pipe was a large bag made of the same material and into this was fed a bellows of the type used to make a fire burn hotter. The bag had a hole in it with a wooden stopper. Kane marvelled at what Raven had created. If this worked, he could envisage it making their lives a lot easier on future raids. IF it worked. He had been counting down the time since they had captured the guards in his head, and realised they were running behind. They needed to put the next part of the plan into action. This was the crucial stage. This was where it could all go wrong in an instant.

Raven looked at him. Kane nodded, and the young man removed the stopper and poured some of their precious poteen into the bag. At the same time the other end of the pipe was pushed under the pavilion. Raven plugged the stopper back in and set to work on the bellows. In the bag, Raven had already placed lime and salt and this was now mixing with the alcohol and creating a gas that Raven said would render the people in the pavilion unconscious long enough for Kane's men to extract the Lords without notice. Kane watched, his heart pounding, hands sweaty. All he could see was the seal skin pipe expanding and contracting as the air was pushed through it. At least that part was working, and there had been no explosion. Yet.

After what felt like an eternity, the apparatus was removed and taken to the other pavilion where the process was repeated. Kane led his men to the pavilion's entrance. He slowly pushed the heavy cloth aside, not knowing whether he would be faced with slumbering men or the point of a shiny sword. The pavilion was warm, a low fire burning in the centre, and all around it lay sleeping men. The Lords on their beds of furs, the guards slumped where they had fallen. Raven's plan had worked. Kane pointed the Lords out to his men and they worked quickly to bring them outside. Raven had warned him not to stay in the pavilion too long or he could be overcome by the gas as well.

Green and two other men carried the Lords directly to the waiting ponies and strapped them on top. Kane went over to the other pavilion where Murphy's group were dragging their captives outside. Raven was rolling up the pipes and the rest of the men were hauling the equipment back to the ponies. No one had made a sound during the entire operation. Kane clapped Raven on the back as they followed the gang. He couldn't believe that the plan had worked, and so well. He smiled as he pictured the guards waking up and looking around to find their charges gone, and no sign of how it had happened.

Kane was so caught up in congratulating himself on a job well done that he had forgotten to keep up the count in his head. The meeting time of the perimeter guards was well past, and down at the camp, this had just been noticed. One of the remaining guards came around the hill, looking for his comrades. He found them, tied to a tree, and when he looked up he saw Kane looking back at him.

"Hey!" the man cried.

"Go, Raven," said Kane. "Tell the others to hurry."

"I'm not leaving ye, Kane."

"Ye must. I'll be fine. Go."

All this was said in the space of a heartbeat and then Kane turned to run back towards the guard, anxious to get to him before he could raise the alarm. They met with a clash of swords, blows parried, thrusts blocked. Every move Kane made the guard countered. He pulled back and kicked Kane in the leg. Kane stumbled, fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of him. The guard brought his sword down towards Kane and he managed to roll out of the way, getting to his feet and hitting the guard on the back with the flat of his sword. He stumbled but remained upright, turning and slashing at Kane. Kane heard the rip of cloth and felt the sting of the blade as it tore through his clothes and into his arm and down across his chest. He didn't feel any pain. He was too focussed on the guard. The blow he had landed on Kane had taken some of the strength out of him. He was breathing heavily and staggering backwards. Kane took advantage of this and pursued him, striking his sword once across the man's arm and then putting a decisive blow into his chest. The guard fell to the ground. He was dead. Kane staggered up the path to where his pony was waiting patiently for him. He pulled himself astride and turned the pony in the direction of the north, and home. Kane leant forward as they trotted, his head resting on the pony's neck. His arm was throbbing now, his chest aching. His shirt was wet with blood; he could feel it sticking to him. Every move of the pony, every twist and turn, pulled on his wounds and he felt faint.

He must have drifted off for a short time because he became aware that he was no longer moving. He looked up to see Raven sitting astride his pony, watching him.

"Ye're alive, then," he said.

Kane grimaced as a wave of pain flowed through him. "Aye, just about."

"Do you think ye can get down. I need to take a look at yer wounds."

Kane nodded and Raven helped him off the horse. He took Kane's jacket and shirt off and examined the wounds. "I think these will need to be stitched up but I don't have any thread. I'll make a strapping to hold them until ye see the medic at camp."

"I'm not going back to camp."

Raven stared at Kane. "What do ye mean? Where are ye going?"

"I have to be somewhere else. I don't have time to waste going back to camp."

"Kane. These wounds could become infected. Ye need to see the medic."

"Aye, and I will. I just have to do something else first. I'll be fine. I've had worse."

Raven bound Kane's wounds, muttering to himself as he did so. Kane ignored the admonishments and occasional expletives. His mind was made up. He was going to meet Abby, and nothing was going to stand in his way. The thought of her waiting by the loch, risking everything to be there, and he not turning up. He couldn't countenance it. He wasn't going to be another source of disappointment in her life. When Raven had finished, Kane eased his shirt and jacket back on. He turned to mount his pony when Raven spoke.

"Kane."

"What?"

"Be safe." The young man reached up and placed a gentle kiss on Kane's cheek. Kane took hold of Raven's hand, brushed his lips against the delicate fingers.

"Aye, thee as well. Don't do anything daft while I'm gone."

He could feel Raven's eyes on him as he rode away.


	4. Rendezvous

CHAPTER FOUR – RENDEZVOUS

Arkholm, Roxburghshire

Abigail had spent the three days since Alasdair and his guests had left for Edinburgh prowling the tower like a wildcat caught in a pitfall trap. The rooms were getting smaller, as though the walls were closing in. She had conducted so many conversations in her head, with herself, with Kane, that she had started to believe some of them were real. She had told herself that this was an infatuation that would pass. A flight of fancy, a daydream brought on by loneliness and an emptiness that had crept inside her now that Clarke was grown. She was a woman in search of something she had lost, if indeed she had ever had it to begin with. Two or three times a day she argued against meeting him, listed all the reasons why it was such a bad idea. When she woke on the seventh day to a pale sky, and a warm sun beaming into her chamber, she knew she was going to go to the loch. Sinclair had gone to Edinburgh with Alasdair; there was no one to prevent her.

Abigail chose her simple green dress again and added her cloak for warmth as she would be out most of the day. Blake the groomsman had prepared the horse and as soon as breakfast was over she went out into the barmkin.

"Harper asked me to give you this, Mistress." Blake handed her a cloth which contained cold meats and a tart left over from the banquet. She had persuaded Harper to obtain the food from the kitchen without Hannah noticing and the maid had clearly been successful. Abigail wasn't sure when Kane would arrive, and she might get hungry. If he was early, then they could share the food as they had his cheese and oatcakes last sevenday.

"Thank you, Blake. I should be back this afternoon."

"Very good, Mistress. Mr Sinclair has sent word he is to return before dark."

"Then I shall return long before then. We wouldn't want to worry Sinclair, would we?"

"No, Mistress. It is best he is not worried." Blake nodded at her and Abigail looked at him. Did he know something? His dark eyes were unreadable. Abigail was struck by how alike he was to Kane, with his dark wavy hair and deep brown eyes. Much younger, though, and darker-skinned. She nodded in return as Blake opened the gate and she was once more out on the hills, free, for a few hours at least.

Kane was not at the loch when she arrived, so Abigail perched on the same rock she had sat on at their last meeting, and settled down to wait for him. The sun slowly arced across the sky and when it was due south over the shimmering River Tweed in the far distance, Abigail knew it was midday. Kane had said they would wish each other good morning, and now that time had gone. She told herself there were any number of reasons why he might be late. She would have to be patient, but that had never been her strongest suit. To make the time go more quickly she decided to explore the loch. Even though she had visited it hundreds of times over the last ten years there was always something new to discover. It was more of a lochan than a true loch, small and shaped like a fried egg that had run in the pan, all ragged edges and hidden crevices. The green stalks of bog bean and flag iris carpeted the shallows. There was a small grassy island off centre and Abigail had swum to that many times over the years. She loved lying on the island, staring up at the clouds, surrounded by the grey-blue waters. The loch was her domain, her kingdom.

She wasn't going to swim out there now, though, not with Kane expected any moment. She contented herself with searching the grassy banks for signs of herbs she could collect next summer when they bloomed again. Only the sharp call of a lapwing disturbed the silence, a loud "peewit, peewit" that so defined the wetlands and pastures in the summer. Abigail looked around for the bird, finally spotting it at the edge of the loch, searching for insects. She was surprised it had not yet flown to the coast. Maybe it was resting on its journey, feeding to sustain the rest of its trip. That thought made her realise she hadn't eaten and she was hungry. She looked up at the sky. The sun was heading inexorably westwards. She would have to leave soon otherwise she wouldn't make it back before dark, and Sinclair's return.

Abigail ate some of the cold meat and pondered why Kane had not kept their rendezvous. He had seemed so sure about meeting her again. She had been the one with doubts; she had never for a moment thought that he would not be there. She hoped nothing had happened to him; he led a dangerous life, anything was possible. Maybe he was on another raid somewhere, or his pony was injured. Maybe he simply didn't want to see her, had decided the game wasn't worth playing. As hard as that thought was to countenance, she wished it to be true, because the alternatives involved trouble, or worse. She wrapped the meat up and retraced her steps back to Juno. The horse was cropping the grass, without a care for what Abigail was feeling.

"This is all for the best anyway, my lady," she said to the horse.

She had one foot in the stirrup, biceps tensing ready to pull herself up onto the horse, when she heard rustling in the trees. She lowered herself again just as Kane came into view, his pony breathing heavily, misting the air. They stopped a short distance from her and Kane slid out of his saddle with a sideways roll and landed in a heap on the ground. He didn't move. Abby ran over to him, fear building like a fire inside her, making her forget everything she had been concerned about. He was lying on his side, his back to her, one leg tucked beneath him. She knelt on the ground next to him and rolled him onto his back, afraid of what she would see. His eyes were closed, his face covered in sweat, hair sticking to his forehead. She brushed some of it out of his eyes with shaking fingers. He was breathing, though, chest rising and falling at a gallop.

"Kane?"

He groaned. She felt relief mixed with the fear. If someone's in pain, they're alive at least. Unsure what to do for the best, she began checking him for injuries, slowly running her hands down his arms, unbuttoning his jacket, easing it open. There was blood on his white shirt. A lot of it.

"Abby?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Ye're here. I thought I was too late." He tried to sit up and groaned again.

"I waited for you. Don't try to sit up yet. What has happened to you? Are you wounded? There's blood on your shirt."

"Not all of it is mine."

"Let me see." Abby helped him slip his arms out of his jacket. His shirt was stained a deep red all down his left arm and across the front. She loosened the ties. "Can you lift your arm?"

Kane managed to raise his arm to chest height and she pulled the shirt up and over his head. He had a strip of cloth tied around his chest and another one around his arm. Both were filthy and stained with blood.

"Someone has helped you?"

"Aye. Raven."

Abby was confused. "A raven?"

Kane nodded. Abby felt his forehead. He was hot but she thought that was from the exertion of riding and not a fever. Clarke had a fever when she was small and Abby remembered that the heat had poured out of her, so hot she didn't even need to touch her to feel it. It was a frightening time. Kane was nothing like that.

Abby unwrapped the cloths and inspected the wounds. His left arm had a diagonal gash from his elbow to his wrist. It wasn't deep but it had bled a lot. It was oozing again now that she had removed the dressing. His chest was covered in blood, mostly dried and she couldn't see what was coming from where.

"I'm going to clean this up. Lie still."

She took the strips of cloth and untied her pouch from her saddle. It was made from deer hide and was waterproof. She cleaned as much of the blood out of the cloths as she could and filled her pouch with water from the loch. When she returned to Kane she hung one of the cloths in the tree to dry and used the other to clean the blood from his chest.

Kane flinched as she put the cold cloth on him. He reached for her hand, held it still. "Ye don't have tae do this."

"Who else is going to do it? Your raven?" Abby ran the cloth over his chest and down to the waistband of his kilt, which hung low on his slim hips. She tried not to look at his bare skin, feel the hard muscles that flexed beneath it as she cleaned him. He was so lean she could count his ribs, feel his heart beating fast beneath them. Alasdair had a rich diet and spent most of his time sitting and this had taken its toll on his body over the years. Looking at Kane, she could see one reason why he was called the Grey Wolf; he was powerful and slender, all muscle and sinew, primed for movement, poised for the hunt.

"Are ye cleaning me, or staring at me?"

Kane's voice shook Abby out of her reverie. She realised her hand was motionless on Kane's stomach. Embarrassed, she rinsed the cloth and dipped it in the fresh water, anything so that she didn't have to look at him.

"I beg your pardon. I was. Distracted." There was nothing else she could say, no excuse she could think of, so she was silent.

Kane changed the subject. "I don't think the chest wound is too bad. The sword only grazed there."

"You were in a sword fight? Have you been," she hesitated. "Have you been out on the road again?"

"Ye could say that. Here, let me." Kane took the cloth from her and wiped the rest of the blood from himself in two quick swipes. "See." He showed her the small wound. It was deeper than a graze but had stopped bleeding. It certainly wasn't enough to cause all the blood that was on him. "The other man did not fare so well."

He sat up and Abby helped him move so that his back was against a tree for support. She rinsed the cloth and his shirt in the loch and hung them on the tree. There was still some warmth in the day to hopefully dry them.

"It would be best if you let the air into the wound. It will help it start to heal. I know of some herbs that will aid your recovery." She started to leave but Kane reached up and grabbed her hand.

"Sit with me a while, first. I have come a long way to see ye."

Abby sat on the grass opposite him, resting against a boulder.

"How were you injured?"

"A lot has happened since last we met. I have been to Newcastle."

"Newcastle?" Abby had never been south of the border as it currently stood, but she had heard of Newcastle. It was a large town and a long way from Arkholm.

"Aye. We pulled off a raid, Abby. It was so daring ye will hear all about it I am certain."

"Ballads are being composed as we speak, no doubt."

Kane laughed, and then groaned, his hands going to his ribs. "Pray, do not make me laugh. It hurts my ribs."

"I did not mean to make you laugh."

"No, but ye do." He rubbed his chest with his good hand. "We nearly got away, but there was one man. I had no choice; it was him or me."

Abby was surprised he should be concerned as to what she thought of him fighting. It was not as if she didn't know he had killed people. Two of her own guards were dead because of his men, though not by his hand.

"You were wounded during the raid in Newcastle? When did this happen?"

"Last night."

"Last night?" Abby could not keep the astonishment out of her voice. How had he got from Newcastle to Arkholm so quickly? He must have sensed her unspoken question, because he answered it.

"I rode through the night, and half the day."

"To see me?"

"Aye. I said I would."

Abby was at a loss to know what to do with this information; a whirlpool of emotions was circling through her, topmost being guilt. She had thought him unwilling to meet her, when all along he was riding like the wind, injured and bleeding, all to be here for her. It was too much to take in. Then she realised something.

"You must be hungry. I have some food." She went over to Juno and brought back the cloth with the meat and tart. She unwrapped it and gave the meat to Kane. He ate it so quickly it must barely have touched the sides.

"Ye have saved me, Abby."

"There's a tart as well." She showed it to him.

"What is it?"

"Blaeberry. They are fresh on the hillside at the moment. I picked them myself."

She handed the tart to Kane, and he broke it in two, holding one half towards her. She shook her head. "You need it more than me."

"I cannae eat all that, Abby. I'm not used to it."

Abby took the smaller half. "Thank you."

Kane munched on the tart, smiling with appreciation as he ate. "Ye like picking yer herbs, don't ye. How do ye know which ones will heal me?"

"My grandmother knew all of the plants about here. When I was a young girl she would bring me out in the hills and teach me which ones would heal and which could be eaten."

"Have ye had much chance to practice? I can't imagine too many wounded reivers come to ye for help."

Abby smiled. "I have never treated a reiver before, no, but my daughter, when she was small. She was adventurous, always getting hurt. I would do my best for her. I had to be careful, though."

"Why?"

"Healing is seen as witchcraft if women do it. Why the herbs heal is not understood, and people believe it is magic. It is, I suppose."

"We have a healer, amongst our group, a man named Jackson. He is not as pretty to look at as you."

Abby ignored his flattery. "I have a collection of plants, near the tower. I have transplanted them from other places on the hills." She leaned in towards Kane. "They are in a secret place. No one knows about it, not even my husband." She didn't know why she had lowered her voice as she told him this; it wasn't as though there was anyone else within miles of them to overhear.

"Yer husband." Kane grimaced.

"You do not like him?"

"Do thee?"

"He is my husband. It is of no consequence to you whether I like him or not."

"Come on, Abby. Ye're with me, here. Ye can tell the truth."

"I don't know you."

"No, and yet ye are here."

Abby ate another piece of the tart, using it to avoid having to speak to him for a few moments while she gathered her thoughts. She decided to change the conversation, turn it round to him.

"May I ask you something?"

"If ye wish."

"You are a nobleman, or you were, and yet your speech is more like that of the shepherds and farmers than a Laird. You must not always have spoken thus. You do not mind me asking?"

Kane smiled. "I do not mind. I have been with The Hundred a few years. I have taken on their way of speaking, I suppose. It helps me to fit in, and distance myself from my past. It feels natural to me now."

Abby's heart began to beat faster at the mention of his past. This would be the perfect time to ask him about his brother's wife, if she dared. Her mouth was suddenly dry. She stared at him, trying to work up the courage.

"What is it, Abby? What do ye really want to know?"

He knew what she wanted to ask, she could tell. He was biting the edge of his bottom lip, looking at her with a slight frown on his face. She took a deep breath.

"I have heard tales of you."

Kane nodded. "Aye, there are many."

"Yes. There is one in particular, about how you came to be cast out of your father's house."

Kane did not reply. He was not going to make this easy for her she realised.

"They say you brutalised your brother's wife." The words came out in a rush, each one falling over the previous so that she wasn't sure if she had even made sense.

"And ye want to know if I did?"

She nodded.

"I told ye I would never defile a woman. I've told ye that twice now."

"I know."

"And yet ye don't believe me."

"I want to. I want to believe you, but it must have been something terrible, Kane. You lost everything."

"Aye, I did." He took a deep breath. "The rumours are true, in one respect. I was cast out for that reason."

Abby stopped breathing for a moment as she listened. Her heart became heavy, sinking down into her stomach like a rock cast into the water.

"I did not do it. Ye must believe that."

Abby's words were like dust in her mouth. "If you did not do it, why did your father not believe you?"

"Because I confessed to it."

Abby was too stunned to speak. Her lips tried to form words but no sound came out.

Kane answered her unspoken question anyway. "I cannot tell ye why. Ye must trust me that it was for a good reason."

Abby couldn't think what possible reason could lead a man to confess to something he didn't do, an act as vile as this was, knowing that he would lose everything, maybe his life. She was more confused now than before she had asked him about it.

Kane leaned towards her, took her hand in his. "Do ye trust me, Abby?"

She looked at him, this man she knew so little about, at his dirty, sweaty hair, his old scars and new wounds. He was a thief and a killer. Bedding women was an amusement to him. All her instincts should be telling her to run as far from him as possible. There was only one answer she could give.

"I do."

Kane squeezed her hand, then sat back against the tree and closed his eyes. "I knew ye would."

Their conversation seemed to have been the final straw for an exhausted Kane and he fell asleep as soon as he had said those words. Abby left him to rest and walked around the loch, hunting for the herbs that would help to heal his wounds. She found comfrey and a few late-flowering St John's Wort plants on the far bank of the loch. While Kane slumbered on she searched his saddle bags and found a tin pot and his fire-making kit. She built a small fire, filled the pot with water and boiled it. Some of the water she poured onto the comfrey to make a poultice and the rest she left on the fire, adding the St John's Wort leaves to make a potion. She sat on a rock, staring at the fire, and thought about Kane. No matter how she tried, she couldn't think of a reason why he would confess to defiling his brother's wife when he hadn't, and the wife must have allowed him to take the blame, knowing all along it wasn't him. Why would she do that? Nothing about the whole matter made any sense, but she had to trust him, as he had said. Perhaps one day he would trust her enough to tell her the truth.

She was sitting next to him, weaving the thin, flexible branches of the willow into a cross shape, when Kane finally awoke. She was lost in her task, so the first moment she realised he was awake was when he spoke to her in a low voice still thick with sleep.

"What are ye doing?"

She looked up at him, and smiled. "Nothing. Just biding time."

"Let me see."

She handed him the cross. "My grandmother taught me how to make them. I'm not very good." She laughed.

He turned the small cross over in his hands. "It has a charm."

"I know what that means. It is terrible." She reached for it, but he held it away from her.

"I should like to keep it."

"What on earth for?"

"Perhaps it will bring me luck." He laid the cross to his right-hand side, out of her reach.

Abby looked up at the darkening sky. Time had slipped away and if she didn't leave soon she would be riding in the dark. Sinclair would be back, and he would be wondering what had happened to her.

"I have made you a potion, from the St John's Wort. It will stop your wound from becoming inflamed. Drink some while I bandage your arm." She handed him the tin pot wrapped in leaves so it would not burn him.

"Thank ye, Abby. Ye have been too kind."

"It is the least I can do, after you rode all this way."

The comfrey leaves had been steeping in the water in her pouch while he was asleep and now she squeezed the liquid out of them and pounded them against a rock using a rounded stone.

"I don't have any beeswax or oil so I can't make a salve but this will protect you and help the wound start to heal while you get back to your camp. Hold your arm out as straight as you can."

Kane did as she asked and she laid the make-shift poultice along the gash in his arm, pressing down as gently as she could on the wound. He gasped, nevertheless.

"It stings, I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It doesn't sting as much as the blade that caused it."

Abby wrapped the cloth back around the wound and tied it off to keep it tight. Next, she examined the wound in his chest, peering in closely, pressing the edges with delicate fingers to see if it would still bleed. She heard Kane take a deep breath, felt the slow exhale of air tickle the back of her neck as he breathed out again. She raised her head. She was only a few inches from his face.

"Did that hurt?"

He shook his head. "No. It was not that."

There was silence, but it was as though a whole conversation was being had, made of gossamer words that could neither be heard nor seen, and yet were heavier than all the stars in the sky. Abby couldn't breathe beneath their weight.

She had to break the spell. "I must leave. It will be dark soon. I don't think you need to bandage your chest. If it starts to bleed again, a dressing will not make any difference." She took his shirt from the tree; it had dried but was stained pink from where she could not get all the blood out. She helped him stand and put the shirt on, and then his jacket, sliding the damaged arm in gently first.

He took her hand as she was buttoning up the jacket. "Will I see ye again?"

She did not dare look into his eyes. "Yes. I expect you will."

"When?"

He was still holding her hand up against his chest, forcing her to stay close to him, barely a breath of wind between them.

"My daughter is visiting, so I will be busy. When she is gone, perhaps. On the fifth day."

"Five days from now. It will be a long wait. Thank ye for taking care of me. Ye are a wonderful medic." He kissed the back of her hand and then released her. Abby stepped back; she didn't want him to hear how loudly her heart was beating, how fast her breaths were coming.

She gathered up her things, fastened her pouch onto Juno's saddle, and then a thought came to her, a memory from the other night. She turned back.

"Kane."

"Aye?"

"My husband means to have you arrested. He has threatened your life. Because of the raid."

"Did you tell him I had ye?"

Abby lowered her eyes. "I did not tell him you didn't. I'm sorry."

"That was the right thing to do, Abby. Please, do not worry about it, or me. I am wanted throughout the Borders. 'Tis nothing new."

Abby shook her head. "You do not know him. He means what he says. He has spoken in public about it. He will not be shamed."

Kane came towards her, put his hand on her shoulder, leaned in close. "I know ye are fearful, but do not be. He does not know me. I will not be taken by the likes of him."

Abby nodded, though she was not convinced. Alasdair had a ruthless determination that she suspected even Kane's arrogant confidence would not be a match for. She put her hand atop his.

"Be careful."

He nodded. "Now go, before ye get into more trouble."

Abby mounted her horse and urged her on as fast as she could up the steep slope of the hill. The sun had started to bleed into the horizon; she would have to ride hard to make it back to the tower before dark.


	5. A Truth Revealed

CHAPTER FIVE – A TRUTH REVEALED

The Hundred Camp, Cheviot Hills

Kane spent the five days before he planned to meet Abby organising supplies and resting his arm. Jackson had fastened it in a sling and had expressly forbidden him to use it. Now he was sitting in the medic's room, waiting for him to undo the bandage and check how the wound was healing. Jackson entered with Jaha in tow. The young medic looked terrified but then he always did around their leader. Jaha was an intimidating man if you were young and inexperienced in life as Jackson was.

Jaha nodded to him. "Kane."

"Sir."

Jaha did not respond, just stood and watched as Jackson unrolled the dressing on Kane's left arm. Kane hadn't seen Jaha since returning from meeting Abby. The older man had spent the last few days in a secret location negotiating the ransom for the English Lords Kane's band had kidnapped.

Jackson gave Kane a nervous smile when he looked up from examining the wound.

"It is healing well. Ye still need to keep it covered to prevent infection but ye no longer need the sling. It would be best to start using it again, but not too much. No fighting for at least another week."

He started to dress the wound in a clean covering.

"That's good news, Kane. You will soon be back to your fighting best. We need you on the road," said Jaha.

"Aye, Sir. It will not be long."

"I came to congratulate you on a job well done. The English were astounded when they found the Lords gone. They still have no idea how it happened."

"I have heard the tales, Sir."

"Yes. Now that I have completed negotiations for the ransom of the Lords they know it was The Hundred that stole their men. I expect there will be reprisals."

Kane nodded. "I have doubled the guard round the camp and The Raven has prepared some devices that will alert us of any approach long before they reach the perimeter."

"Very good. The negotiations went better than I expected. The Lords fetched a high price. I have left the details in your quarters."

"Thank you. I will update the inventory on my return."

Jaha turned to leave, and then stopped as he reached the threshold, looking back at Kane with a stern face. "Oh, Kane."

"Yes, Sir?"

"I was unhappy to find you were not with the returning party, after the raid. The Raven said he had seen you alive after the fight and that was all anyone knew."

"I had to see to a personal matter."

"There are no personal matters in The Hundred, Kane. Everything is shared, you know the rules. I hope it wasn't for your own gain."

Kane wanted to laugh at Jaha's words. Everything is shared! Pity the man didn't follow his own rules, but that was leaders for ye. They were the same everywhere, rich or poor, out only for themselves.

"No, Sir. It was a family matter, of a sort. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't. I can't make exceptions for you. The clan only works if we are all the same."

"Of course, Sir."

With that Jaha left and Kane looked at Jackson. The young man raised his eyebrows but didn't speak.

"I am thankful to thee, Jackson."

"Ye're welcome." The medic cleared the old dressing away as Kane stood to leave. "I know someone helped ye."

Kane looked at him. "What do ye mean?"

"When ye returned, ye had a comfrey poultice on yer arm. The Raven doesn't know about healing so it can't have been him who helped ye."

"I helped myself. I have learned some tricks."

Jackson shook his head. "No. Ye couldn't have tied off the dressing with one arm."

"Does it matter to ye if I had help?"

"No, but whoever helped ye, they did a wonderful job. Yer arm would not be healing as well if they hadn't treated thee so quickly."

Kane put his hand on Jackson's shoulder. "Don't worry. Ye don't have a rival for yer position here."

"It's not that." Jackson took a deep breath. "Jaha was very angry that ye didnae come back with the men. Ye need to be careful. I hope she's worth it."

"Who says it's a woman?"

Jackson smiled. "What else is worth risking everything for?"

"Thank ye for yer care, Jackson, and the warning." Kane patted the young man's arm and left for his quarters. He wasn't going to talk to Jackson about Abby, or to anybody. She was his secret. He wasn't ready to share her with anyone else.

Kelso, Six Miles from Arkholm, on the Scottish Border

It had been four days since Clarke arrived at Arkholm and both she and Abigail were desperate to get out of the tower and have a change of scenery. Alasdair had been home the first two days and there had been a steady stream of Clarke's old friends ever since he left. Abigail had not had any time alone with her daughter, so she had suggested they visit the market in Kelso where they could talk without interruption. Sinclair was with them, but he was following a discreet distance behind with two of his guardsmen. He would not bother them unless it was necessary. Abigail also had one of the kitchen maids with her to buy the produce Hannah required for the days ahead.

They browsed the stalls, checking the farmer's produce, feeling the smoothness of the barley grain, letting it run through their fingers. The harvest had only recently been taken in and fresh produce was abundant. Abigail pointed out what she wanted to her maid and the girl began the haggling process with the vendor. Abigail slipped her arm into Clarke's and they walked to the linen stall to examine the cloths.

"It is nice to have you to myself, if only for a morning."

"You could have me to yourself a lot more if you'd let me come home."

Abigail sighed. She had been expecting this conversation. Clarke had been tense all week, her frustrations with Abigail building up. She had only kept them in check because Alasdair was with them.

"You know why that is not possible. Have you forgotten this boy? Is your infatuation over?"

Clarke scowled. "It is not an infatuation. I love him, mother. And he's not a boy. His name is Bellamy."

"Clarke, he's a groomsman. You are a Lady. It can never be. You must find someone more suitable."

"You may be stuck with a man you hate but I don't see why I should be. Do you think I want your life?"

Clarke's words stung Abigail, not least because they were true. She didn't want this life for her daughter, but there was no choice for either of them.

"It is because I want you to have a better life that I am doing this. There is no possibility of you having a relationship with Blake. Your father would have him hanged if he knew, and you married to one of his old friends before you could blink. I'm protecting you."

Clarke softened. She squeezed Abigail's arm. "I know, mother, but you don't know what it is like to love someone and not be with them. I ache for him. The feeling will not go away, no matter how long you keep me at Aunt Mary's house."

Abigail did not answer; she was too anguished to speak. She did know what it was like to want someone she couldn't have. She had wanted Jacob long after he had died, and the space he had left in her heart and her life had never been filled, it had just grown as the years went on until it seemed like there was no substance left to her at all, just empty space. And now there was Kane. He was forcing himself into that emptiness somehow, filling her heart and her mind. He was all she thought about, and she realised with a shock that it was the same for Clarke. They were the same. Mother and daughter both wanting a man they couldn't have. Abigail wanted to laugh. If only Clarke knew how alike they truly were. She could not know about Kane, though. Abigail didn't think her daughter would betray her, but she would be angry that she was being kept from Blake while her mother was secretly meeting Kane, and she would be right to be angry.

Clarke must have sensed Abigail's upset because she put an arm around her.

"I am sorry, mother. I forgot about father. I know you still miss him." She looked at Abigail's chest. "Where's your cross?"

Abigail's hand went to her chest, touched the place where the cross used to lie. "It was taken from me in the raid." She had told Clarke very little about the reiver's attack. She didn't want her to worry.

"Oh. They didn't hurt you, did they? Father has said little about it."

"No, darling. They did not hurt me. They wanted the cattle, and the necklace, that is all."

Clarke moved towards the next stall but Abigail caught her arm, pulled her back. "Listen, Clarke. I do understand about Bellamy, but there is nothing either of us can do, except try to move on."

Clarke nodded, but Abigail suspected her agreement was to appease her mother, and that she had no intention of moving on from the boy.

"Look, mother, there is a woodcutter. Why don't you have your portrait done?"

"Oh, Clarke, no," but Abigail's protestations were in vain for Clarke dragged her over to the artist. He was finishing up a portrait, rubbing the paper that covered the woodblock with a flat piece of wood to transfer the design onto the paper. He showed the finished item to the young lady who was purchasing it and she seemed delighted. He looked up at Abigail and Clarke.

"How may I help you, My Ladies?"

"My mother would like her portrait made." Clarke pushed Abigail forward.

"No, thank you," said Abigail.

"She's shy," Clarke told the woodcutter.

"She is very beautiful. I would be honoured to make your portrait, My Lady. Please sit."

Abigail sat while the artist gouged out pieces of the wood with his special knife so that the details of her head and shoulders were left on the wood that remained. He was quick and skilful and it was fascinating to watch. When he was satisfied with his carving he rolled ink over the flat parts and placed the parchment on top. Then he rubbed it with the flat piece of wood until he was happy that all the ink had been transferred. He turned the paper over and showed it to her. He had captured her likeness well, her sharp cheekbones and the straight edges of her nose. Her hair was braided and hung down over her left shoulder. She had never studied herself so closely before; it was a strange feeling to see herself as others must do. Was she beautiful? Not as Lady Eleanor Douglas was beautiful, but perhaps, there was something.

"Thank you."

"Ye are welcome, My Lady. Perhaps I can make a portrait of the younger lady next time."

"I would like that."

The woodcutter wrapped the portrait in leather and handed it to Abigail. She put it in her pouch. She had no idea what she was going to do with a portrait of herself, but it was a nice memento of her day with Clarke at the very least.

Arkholm, Roxburghshire

With Clarke returned to her Aunt's house, Abigail had nothing to do except count the hours down until she could go to the loch to see Kane. When the time came, she went down to the stables to saddle her horse. She had mounted Juno and was waiting for the gates to be opened when Sinclair approached.

"Good morning, My Lady."

"Good morning, Sinclair."

"My Lady, I am told ye plan to ride out to the loch again, to look for herbs."

Abigail's heart rate rose. Why was he asking about this?

"That is true. I am ready to go. The blaeberries on the slopes surrounding the water are ripe for picking."

"Forgive me, My Lady, but I would prefer ye not to go. There have been reports of reiver activity at Dryburgh. That is only a few miles from here."

"They will not bother me, Sinclair. I have nothing to give them."

"You have yer horse, My Lady, and, other, things."

Sinclair could not voice the words but Abigail knew he was referring to the night of the raid on Dere Street. She kept forgetting that everyone else thought she had been attacked that night. Sinclair was concerned for her safety, and she was grateful for that, but she could not let him prevent her from seeing Kane.

"I am grateful for your concern, but I assure you I will be fine."

"My Lady. Yer spirit is commendable, but my conscience cannot allow ye to go alone when there are undesirable people known to be close by. If ye insist on going out, then I will send Blake with thee."

All hopes of persuading Sinclair to let her go alone sank with those words. There was no reason why Blake should not accompany her. In Sinclair's eyes, it was the perfect solution, offering Abigail her freedom to roam the moors but keeping her safe at the same time. There was nothing she could say. She had no choice but to go to the loch with Blake and hope that Kane wasn't there or that he saw them before they saw him. What was Blake going to think if he saw the Grey Wolf waiting at the loch for his mistress? She had no doubt Blake would recognise him because he had been at the raid, tied up with the rest of the men. He had seen Kane take Abigail into the rushes, watched her return looking distressed with her dress torn to the waist and her skirts black with mud. If he saw Kane he might try to attack him, and Kane would be forced to defend himself. The more she thought about the possibilities, the worse the situation became.

"My Lady?"

Sinclair was looking at her with furrowed brow. She realised that she had taken too long to respond. She swallowed to lubricate her throat so that the words could come out and not get stuck.

"That sounds wonderful, Sinclair, thank you. I do not want to waste a good day. There may not be many more before winter."

Sinclair smiled, satisfied that she would be safe. "Very good, My Lady."

Blake mounted his own horse and Abigail left the tower with her groomsman in tow. She rode more slowly than usual, wanting to delay the inevitable encounter, give herself time to think. Perhaps if she was late enough Kane would have given up and left. She shook her head. No. A man who rode 70 miles through the night with sword wounds bleeding into his shirt was not going to give up if she was later than expected.

They stopped on the top of the moor to let the horses drink from a pool. Abigail felt sick with worry and trepidation.

"Are ye unwell, Mistress?" Blake was looking at her with concern.

"I'm a little nauseous. It will pass."

"Perhaps you should rest a moment. Would you like something to eat? I have oatcakes." He started to hunt in his pouch for the food.

"No. I am fine. You are right, though. I just need a moment."

She stood next to Juno while the horse drank from the pool, and looked at the moorland surrounding her. Life was continuing as usual. The sun made its journey through the sky; the gorse was blooming; pheasants were stalking through the heather; curlews and lapwings were alighting on the grass to feed before continuing their journey to the coast. Nothing was aware that in their midst stood a woman who was slowly falling apart, whose fragile world teetered on the brink of destruction. She had been so happy these last three weeks, but she should have known it was not meant to be. There was to be no joy in life for her. Just a few minutes ride away from here, where the moor sloped down to the loch, Kane was waiting for her. If he didn't notice Blake, if he smiled at her in that way he had, that smile that made her heart swell, Blake would be sure to realise what was really going on. If he informed Alasdair, then there may not be any life for Abigail at all.

"The horses have drunk their fill, Mistress."

Blake's voice interrupted her reverie. She smiled at him. He was a handsome young man, freckled and dimpled with a shock of unruly black hair. No wonder Clarke felt the way she did about him. He looked so carefree, unaware that he held Abigail's fate in his hands.

Abigail pulled herself up onto Juno's back. She took deep breaths to calm herself. She had indulged in self-pity long enough. She could not change whatever fate was awaiting her. She may as well approach it head on and what would be would be.

Abigail had only a few minutes to decide on the best course of action as she and Blake rode towards the loch. Would it be best if she appeared along the small track first, or Blake? If she appeared first there was a chance she could warn Kane, but he might call to her or come towards her. If Blake appeared first Kane might think it was her and still do those things, or he might realise and keep away, pretend he was simply there to water his horse. In both scenarios there was the chance that Kane would give the game away unintentionally, but in the second one there was at least a thin sliver of hope that they could avoid complete disaster. She decided that somehow, she would have to make sure Blake descended the path first.

They slowed as they neared the top of the sloping path that led down to the loch. Abigail pulled the horse up and Blake stopped behind her.

"Would you mind going down the path ahead of me? I don't believe there will be anyone there, but just in case."

Blake nodded. "Of course, My Lady. I was about to suggest that."

He rode ahead of her and they picked their way down the path, through the birch and the willow, heading slowly, inexorably to the bottom, and Kane. With every step of the horses, Abigail's heartbeat seemed to increase until she thought it might beat too fast and explode out of her chest, if she didn't know such a thing was impossible. She fancied she could hear her blood pounding in her head; it was so loud it was giving her a headache.

At last they reached the bottom of the path and Blake disappeared ahead of her as he rounded the corner. For the briefest of moments, Abigail considered stopping, so she wouldn't have to see what happened next, but she wasn't going to let her fears win, and besides, if she wasn't there, she couldn't help, and she wasn't going to leave Kane to face this alone. And so it was that she rounded the corner only a moment after Blake, and saw Kane sitting under the tree she had already started to think of as theirs, the one where they had shared their first meal, where she had tended to his wounds just five days before. He looked up as he heard the horses and she saw joy and then confusion flash across his face, his brow knitted into a frown, his mouth dropping slightly open. Blake saw him and held a hand up to halt their little party in its tracks. He turned to Abigail.

"Don't be alarmed, Mistress, but I think that is the reiver who accosted us on the road from Edinburgh. I will go and deal with him. Please remain here."

He dismounted and Abigail caught his arm before he moved away. "We can leave, Blake. He is not yet on his pony, and our horses are faster. He will not catch us."

"I know, Mistress, but he should not be here. This is Griffin land. I mean to warn him off."

He walked towards Kane before Abigail could say any more. She was forced to watch, out of hearing distance. A hundred ways that this could play out ran through her mind faster than Juno could gallop. As Blake approached, Kane stood up but did not move towards him. He stood with hands on hips, casual and unconcerned. Abigail's heart was in her mouth. What was Blake going to do? He didn't have a sword with him but she knew he always carried a ballock knife, a dagger worn by all the borderers. Kane had one; she had seen it attached to the belt around his kilt. She decided that if either man made a move towards the other she would shout and scream and make so much fuss they would pause long enough for her to ride over there and stop it. If she had to confess the truth to Blake in order to save Kane, she would do it. She wouldn't be saving him for long, because they would both be headed for the gallows, but that was a concern for another day.

Her fears in the end proved groundless. Blake and Kane had a brief conversation, after which Kane mounted his pony and rode off in the opposite direction. Blake headed back to Abigail. He smiled as he approached.

"It is safe, now, Mistress. He is gone."

Abigail was astounded and confused. "What did you say to him?"

The young man shrugged. "I told him to leave, and he did. He was not looking for trouble, Mistress; he was passing through and stopped to water his horse and take a rest."

Abigail was surprised the situation had resolved itself so easily. She studied Blake's face; he did not seem concerned, or curious.

"Thank you."

"Mistress?"

"Yes."

"I think we should perhaps not mention this to Mr Sinclair. He will only worry, and it is resolved."

Abigail nodded. "That is perhaps for the best. Let us collect the blaeberries and return."

She searched out her favourite patch, where the sun beat the longest and the blaeberries were more sweet than bitter. Blake followed behind her holding her pouch open as she dropped the fruits inside. Now that everything had turned out well, and she could think clearly, she thought about how close she had been to seeing Kane, and yet so far. He had looked cleaner than when she had last seen him, handsome in his kilt and boots, his shirt white again, his hair washed, still too long, and wavy. For that one moment, his eyes had locked with hers, a spark of joy lighting them up, quickly followed by confusion and realisation. She did not know how or when they would meet again. She had no way of getting a message to him, and he could never risk contacting her. She couldn't keep returning to the loch day after day in the hope that he might be there. Sinclair would not let her out again after today, even if he remained in the dark about what had happened. Frustration rose within her, making tears prick her eyes. She blinked them away. This day could have been so much worse. She should be grateful that they had not been discovered and have hope that they would meet again, somehow or other.

The rest of the day passed achingly slowly. Abigail sat in her chair in the corner of the kitchen. The chatter of the servants, the clash of pans and chop, chop, chop of knives against wood, did nothing to distract her from thoughts of Kane. She had been so looking forward to seeing him and he was there, just yards away, but he might as well have been on the moon. She shouldn't be thinking like this, shouldn't be sitting in her kitchen thinking about another man. This was her place. This was where she belonged. Kane offered nothing but trouble. And yet. When Abigail was a child she fell off her horse and injured her foot. Her grandmother made her wear a comfrey poultice wrapped in a cloth for weeks. She wasn't allowed to take it off by herself and as the bone healed the foot had started to itch. And itch. And itch, until Abigail thought she would be driven mad if she couldn't just get her fingernails on her skin and scratch. She felt like that now. Kane made her feel like that.

Abigail rose early the next morning, and dressed herself quickly in a simple dress with a dark blue skirt and pale blue bodice. She waited until she could hear the household come alive as the guards changed shift and the servants came up from the village to start the day's work. In the chaos of people coming and going, she slipped unnoticed to the stable where Juno was standing patiently, munching on hay. Abigail saddled the horse and led her out into the courtyard. Her heart was beating fast at the risk of being caught. She knew none of the servants would challenge her but if Sinclair were to come out into the barmkin, or Blake, then they would be sure to stop her. She had no excuse ready other than that she wanted to ride. Keeping it simple was best. No one challenged her though, and she led Juno through the gate and soon they were back on the hill, following the familiar path to the loch. Abigail didn't know if Kane would be there; in fact; she was quite certain he would not be. There was no reason for him to come back the next day and at such an early hour, but she had to go, she was compelled to try.

She had spent most of the night awake, turning everything over in her mind, debating, arguing, trying to put an end to her feelings but the itch would not go away. Finally, as dawn was breaking and her chamber was bathed in its soft orange light, she had decided to go to the loch. The idea was rash, reckless, and probably pointless, but once it was in her head there was no stopping it. And so here she was, riding across the moor to see a man who would most likely not be there, and if he was, then what? She had not thought that far ahead.

The sky was still clinging to the last of the sun's early rays and the trees that lined the path down to the loch were tinged with orange. There was a slight chill in the air and the grasses were shiny with dew. She rounded the final corner and saw a figure pacing up and down along the edge of the loch, like a caged animal, shoulders hunched, head down. Her heart beat faster. It was Kane. He was here. He looked up as she dismounted and she watched, heart in mouth, as he walked towards her with long, loping strides, stopping just a foot's length away.

"I was afraid that I wouldn't see you," said Abby.

"I had that fear myself," Kane replied. His smile was awkward, shy almost. It suited him better than the cocky one he often gave her.

"How did you get here so early?"

"I never left."

"You knew I would come again today." How did he know her so well?

"I hoped ye would."

Abby took a step closer to him. "I had to."

Kane also took a step forward, closing the gap between them completely.

"Aye. I know," he said, and then his hands were on the sides of her head, pulling her towards him so that their lips met in a kiss that was nothing like the bruising one he'd given her when they first met. It was soft, and gentle, and she melted into it. Kane slipped an arm around the back of her neck, the other wrapped around her waist, so that she was enveloped by him. Her hands snaked up his back, into his hair, pressing him closer to her. He was smoky, like the peat. Rich and deep. She breathed in his scent, tried to memorise everything about him, the hardness of his body against hers, the press of his fingers into her waist, the touch of his lips, and the way he sucked on her bottom lip, bringing the blood to it, making it swell.

At last, they broke apart, and just stood looking at each other. Abby was lightheaded, as though she had drunk too much wine.

"Abby." Kane caressed her cheek. "Ye don't have tae worry about Blake."

"My groomsman, Blake? What do you mean?" Abby was too lost in the warm touch of his thumb as it stroked her face to really listen to what he was saying.

"Aye. He's my man. He won't say anything about seeing me yesterday."

Abby stepped back as Kane's confession sank in. "What do you mean, he's your man?"

Kane dropped his hand, a flash of wariness crossing his face. "He's an ally, of mine, and he can be so for thee."

"You mean, he's an informer?"

Kane nodded.

A heavy weight seemed to settle in Abby's stomach as she worked through the implications of Kane's words. Then realisation hit her like a rock.

"Oh."

Kane took a step towards her but she put her hand up to hold him back.

"No. It can't be. Not Blake."

"Abby."

Everything fell into place in one moment for Abby; everything that had happened since they set off on the road from Edinburgh.

"He lost the horse's shoe on purpose, to give you time to attack us." She felt sick, as though everything she had known was a lie. She had trusted Blake; never for a moment did she think that one of her men would betray her. "That's why you thought Sinclair would be in the carriage instead of me. Oh, you told me you were informed and I didn't hear it. I didn't realise what you were saying."

"It's how I work, Abby."

Kane looked desperate, as though he wished he could take back everything he had said since he kissed her. She didn't care how he felt. He should feel bad. Because of him and Blake two of her guards were dead. She couldn't contain her anger.

"What right do you have to attack people? Why do you do it, Kane? Why did he?"

"Ye have known who I am from the start. I have never pretended I was other than I am."

"I have not truly considered it before now. You do terrible things. You kill people."

"I try not to. I know that is a weak argument. Ye have every right to be angry. Abby, I didn't know ye were going to be in the carriage. I didn't know I was going to feel about ye as I do."

"It matters not that I was in the carriage. It is what you do all over the Borders. You have people everywhere, don't you? Other men, in other houses, betraying their masters."

"We all do terrible things, Abby. There are no truly good men. Is your husband a good man? Your father?"

Abby shook her head, not because she was agreeing with Kane's comment, although it was true that Alasdair was crooked and her father was little better. She didn't want to consider the implications of what he was saying. If there were no good men, where did that leave humanity? She had thought Kane a good man, deep down. Had she been deluding herself?

Kane put his hands on Abby's shoulders, shaking her a little, as though he could force the truth of his words inside her. "It is the world. I do what I have to do to survive. The Hundred clan. They are my people now. They took me in when no one else would have me. It is my duty to help them, to defend them."

"And Blake? Why does he betray us when we house him, and feed him? We are good to him."

"Ye are good to him. Yer husband… It is not for me to say, Abby. Ye must ask Blake yerself."

Abby sighed. Kane was right about one thing. He had never lied to her, never pretended to be another kind of man. She had known this about him all along; it just seemed more real now that she knew how he operated, as though she was seeing the true him clearly for the first time. He was the Grey Wolf. He lived an entirely different life to her. He fought for survival every day, was loyal to his people, tried to be fair. And here she was, with all her privilege, meeting a man who was not her husband, kissing him, thinking about doing other things with him, things that a married woman should not be considering. She was not in a place to judge.

Kane must have sensed that she was softening, because he pulled her into his arms, and she did not resist. She laid her head on his broad chest. He was so much taller than her that she fit snugly under his chin, which he rested on top of her head.

"I am sorry, Abby. I am sorry that I live the way I do. I have never given it much of a thought before. It did not matter until now."

She raised her head to look at him. "No. You must survive, and protect your people. I understand that."

This time, it was she who kissed him, her hands on his face, caressing him as he had done her. His beard was sharp as the point of a quill when she brushed it upwards, and soft as the feather when she stroked it down. Her actions seemed to undo something in Kane. He moaned and his lips strayed from her lips to her cheek and down to her throat and then her collarbone, and it felt so wonderful she let her head fall back to allow him better access. His kisses were so urgent, and she felt it too, a desperate longing for something more, but now was not the time for that.

"Kane." She eased him away from her, going against everything her body was craving.

"Abby. What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. It is just that I can't stay. I must return home before I am missed."

"We must meet again."

"We will."

"I know ye are angry with Blake, but he can help us, Abby. I can send messages through him, and so can thee. Ye can tell him when ye are free to meet and I will come."

"I have words for him first, though."

Kane smiled. "I have no doubt. I would not like to be him when ye next see him."

Abby smiled as well, she couldn't help it. She sighed. She didn't want to leave this man, this moment, but she must.

"I will send you a message. Be safe."

Kane kissed her hand. "Aye, thee as well. No unnecessary risks, Abby, like today. Promise me."

Abby nodded. "I do." Then she walked towards Juno, without looking back. If she saw him again, she feared she would never be able to leave.


	6. The Willow Tree

CHAPTER SIX – THE WILLOW TREE

Arkholm Tower, Roxburghshire

When Abigail returned to the tower, Blake was in the courtyard. She had hoped for more time to think before speaking to him but looking at him made her angry again and she didn't think she could contain herself for long.

"Mistress? I didnae realise ye had been out."

"I could not sleep." Her tone was clipped and Blake frowned.

"Is everything alright, Mistress?"

"I think perhaps there is something amiss with Juno. Would you examine her in the stable?"

"Of course."

Abigail dismounted and led Juno into the stable with Blake following behind. He stroked the horse's mane, whispering to her.

"What is the problem, Mistress?"

Abigail checked that no one else was in hearing distance, and pulled a surprised Blake further into the stall.

"I have been to the loch."

Blake nodded, his forehead still wrinkled with confusion.

"I met someone there," Abigail continued. "A mutual acquaintance it would seem." She felt sick as she said those words. She was as good as admitting her relationship with Kane to this young man, a servant way below her in station. Now he had knowledge of her that no one else had. Her life was in his hands and the thought was terrifying, but Kane was right, she had to trust someone if she was to continue seeing him. She could see realisation dawning on Blake's face; his frown lifting, his eyes growing wider.

"Oh. Then ye know." He looked down at the ground.

"Don't look at the ground. If you believe what you are doing is right you should be able to stand tall, and look me in the eye."

Blake looked up. "I'm sorry, Mistress. I never meant for thee to get hurt. I had no way of stopping it."

"That's not true. You could have stopped it easily. If you had fixed the shoe properly instead of leaving it loose, we would have been home before Kane's men arrived."

"That wasnae possible."

"Why not? It seems simple to me."

"If I had not gone ahead as arranged, there would have been serious trouble."

"From Kane?"

"These are not men to be messed with, Mistress."

Abigail found it hard to believe that Kane would harm Blake in any way. Why would he have told her to ask the boy for the truth if he knew the answer would reflect badly on him?

"Are you saying that Kane would have hurt you if you had not done as you were told?"

Blake shook his head. "Kane would not hurt me, but his Heidsman would have hurt him. He disnae tolerate failure, Mistress."

"So you did it to protect Kane?"

"Aye, Mistress. He is a good man."

Abigail was relieved, but also curious. Kane had seemed so grateful to the Hundred clan, was loyal to them. He had shown no sign that he was under duress or that anything was amiss.

"I understand that you feel loyalty to Kane, but why did you betray us, Blake?"

"I would prefer not to say, Mistress."

"There must be a reason. I need to know. Please tell me." Abigail rubbed Blake's shoulder to reassure him, and offer encouragement.

"It is not thee. Ye are good to me." He hesitated. Abigail said nothing, waited for him to continue. "The Master. There was something. Mistress, are ye sure ye want to hear this?"

Abigail wasn't sure at all; her stomach was unsettled. She didn't want to hear what Blake was going to tell her, but if it involved Alasdair, she had to know.

"Please just tell me."

Blake cleared his throat. He looked down again and this time Abigail didn't tell him to look her in the eye. Some things were hard to admit face to face.

"My sister, Octavia. The Master wanted her to do things, Mistress. Things she didnae want to do. She is only young."

Abigail vaguely recollected a young girl with long, dark hair who had worked in the kitchen. She had not seen her for some time, but servants come and go; she had not given it a thought. What had Alasdair done?

"Did he hurt her?"

"He tried, but Octavia is strong, and determined. She fought him off. He made her leave your service as punishment."

Abigail could hardly believe what she was hearing. It wasn't that she doubted Blake was telling the truth, she could hear it in his voice; see it in the way his hands were shaking as he clasped them in front of him. He did not want to have to tell her this. No, what she couldn't believe was that this had been going on under her nose, and she was oblivious. She knew Alasdair was a cruel man, knew that only too well, and he was dismissive of the servants, never had a kind word for any of them but then he rarely had a kind word for his own wife.

"Have there been others?"

"I think so. The servants talk. There have been a number over the years I believe."

Abigail shivered. She felt cold, and sick, and didn't want to be having this conversation any longer.

Blake held out a tentative hand towards her and she let him take her hand in his.

"Mistress. I will help thee."

Abigail nodded. She was too shaken up to speak. Blake dropped her hand and left her alone in the stable. She buried her head in Juno's mane and cried, the horse's fur absorbing her tears, and the sound of her sobs.

Later that evening, Abigail was in her chamber sitting by the fire when Harper came in.

"Hannah said ye wanted tae see me, Mistress."

"I do, thank you, Harper. Come and sit by me for a moment." Abigail indicated the chair that was usually on the other side of the fire. She had pulled it round so that it was next to hers and slightly facing her.

The girl perched on the edge of the chair, as though she didn't want to get it dirty, or perhaps so she could escape more quickly if necessary. She looked terrified. Abigail put her hand on Harper's.

"There's no need to worry. I would like to ask you a question, that is all."

Harper nodded.

"I want you to be honest with me, even if you think I won't like the answer."

"Yes, Mistress."

Abigail tried to speak with a confidence and assuredness that she most certainly wasn't feeling.

"Has the Master ever made you do something you did not want to do?"

Harper looked confused. "What do ye mean, Mistress?"

"Has he ever tried to force himself on you, physically? You can tell me. I promise I will understand."

Harper's green eyes grew wide with surprise. "Oh, no, Mistress. Not me."

"Not you? But you know of others, like Octavia Blake?"

"Ye know about Octavia?"

"I do, yes, so you can see why I am asking you."

"He has never bothered me, Mistress. I don't think he favours blonde lassies."

Abigail managed a reassuring smile. She stroked Harper's hair. The girl was probably no older than Clarke, still a child really, but already she had been in Abigail's service for four years.

"Thank you for telling me."

Harper got up to leave.

"Oh, Harper. If the Master ever does hurt you, in any way, you will tell me, won't you?"

"If ye wish, Mistress."

Abigail nodded, and the girl left the room. She moved the chair back to its usual place in case anyone else entered and wondered why it had been moved. She got into bed. The sheets were cold; she had forgotten to ask Harper to warm the bed with a hot stone. Abigail pulled the covers tight around her. She had thought a lot about what Blake had told her and the one feeling she was left with was stupidity. All of this going on in her own household and she had sat in her tower completely unaware. She had thought she was part of the house when she sat in the kitchen, listening to the gossip, but clearly the servants kept a lot from her. She searched her memories to try and see if there was anything she could point to, anything that stood out to say that she knew, deep down, but somehow had cast it from her mind, but there was nothing. She had not noticed, too caught up in trying to avoid Alasdair's wrath herself to be concerned with others. Deep shame made her flush red, and warmed her despite the cold.

A long time before, Abigail had been a spirited girl, madly in love with life. She grew up in the hills with a mother who was indifferent and a grandmother who adored her and taught her everything she could, even though she knew Abigail would never get to use that knowledge. She met a wonderful man, who loved her spirit, and was blessed with a daughter of her own. Then that man had died, and he had taken some of her spirit with him. His brother had taken what was left and crushed it until she was a shadow of that girl in the hills. She had always known this, but she had realised something tonight. She had let him. She had allowed Alasdair to reach into even the most private parts of her and pull out everything that made her who she was, or had been. She could never fight him, never go against him, but she could have protected that precious part of herself, instead of giving it up. Well, no more. That girl was on her way back. She wasn't going to hide in her bedchamber while Alasdair rained his terror on their household, and she was going to let her spirit free again. She didn't know what she would do about the former yet, but she knew how to solve the latter. First thing in the morning she would get a message to Kane via Blake. Whenever he was ready to meet her again at the loch, she would be there, and nothing was going to stand in her way.

Abby was blessed with blue skies and bright sunshine again as she rode to the loch for her meeting with Kane. It was warm enough not to need a cloak but she knew this wouldn't last. September had given way to October and the days were getting shorter, the nights colder. Kane was waiting for her when she got to the bottom of the path, standing under their tree. His grey jacket was hanging on a branch, and he was wearing the white shirt again, tucked loosely into his kilt. The ties were undone and the shirt flapped open revealing his chest. Abby smiled; he knew what he was doing, had done since their second meeting when he'd claimed to be about to bathe. Then again, so did she. She had dressed in her blue dress again, the one with the dark blue skirt and pale blue bodice, because it was a little tight and the laces didn't quite meet, leaving tantalising glimpses of bare skin. She'd asked Harper to braid her hair more loosely, so that it was softer, less severe. She could not deny that she had dressed to please Kane, to tempt him, but into what? Was she really going to lay with him, a man she barely knew, whom she had met only a month before? Her stomach knotted at the thought; she did not think she could go through with it. Then Kane smiled at her, a smile so broad and warm it made heat flow through her, and she thought perhaps she was losing her mind over this man. She dismounted and tethered Juno to the birch tree, using it as an opportunity to gather herself before facing Kane.

When she finally turned around, he had not moved; he was waiting for her to come to him. His dog, Archie, came bounding up to Abby as she walked towards Kane, and she bent over to rub his ears. She could feel Kane's eyes on her and she flushed, had the urge to cover up but she fought it. If she hadn't wanted him to look, she shouldn't have dressed the way she had. She stood up and looked at Kane. He pointed to the hills.

"Archie! Go and find some rabbits."

The dog ran towards the moor, leaving Kane and Abby alone under the tree by the loch. There was silence for a moment; Abby's mind was blank, all the words she had ever known had deserted her and left her with an emptiness as black as space. She was grateful when Kane spoke first.

"'Tis a beautiful day, is it not?"

Abby nodded. "It is." Two words at least had returned to her.

"Did ye have any trouble escaping yer tower?"

"No. Everyone is away except for the kitchen staff and guardsmen."

He nodded and smiled. "That's good."

Why was this meeting suddenly so awkward? She had not felt like this any of the times they had met previously. Conversation had flowed easily back then. Now it was stilted, as though they hardly knew each other, which they didn't.

Kane was studying her face, his eyes roaming over her, trying to read her thoughts.

"I have something for ye." He went to the pocket of his jacket, brought out a small object wrapped in cloth. He passed it to her.

"What is it?"

"Ye'll have to open it to see."

She unwrapped the cloth and inside was a tree, smaller than her hand, and carved out of wood. She turned the object over. It was delicate, and detailed, with bark patterns etched onto the trunk and thin branches with tiny buds at the end.

"Did you make this?"

"Aye. I carved it from the willow tree."

Abby looked up at him. "Which tree?"

Kane gestured behind him. "This one. Where we meet."

Abby was amazed that the tree meant something to Kane as well. She had not considered him to be sentimental, but then he claimed to write ballads, so perhaps he thought more deeply than she had imagined.

"It's beautiful."

"I thought ye might like something. A memory, for when we are apart."

She didn't tell him that she needed no reminder, that he was in her thoughts constantly. She wrapped the tree carefully and put it in her pouch.

"Thank you."

Kane gestured to the ground. "Why don't we sit awhile?"

They sat on the grass next to each other. Kane took her hand, laced his fingers through hers.

"I was pleased to hear from Blake. I was concerned that perhaps ye had killed him after last we met."

"I wanted to. I felt the same about you as well when you told me."

"I know ye did. I could feel it. 'Twas like winter had come early."

Abby laughed. "I have thawed some over the last few days."

Kane stroked her cheek with this thumb. "I am glad."

Abby closed her eyes for a moment, felt the sun warm on her skin, Kane's hand caressing her face. She was so happy in that moment it was almost frightening, as though such a feeling could not be real, wouldn't last.

"What are we doing here, Kane?"

"We're enjoying each other, aren't we?"

Abby sighed. "Yes, but."

"Abby. I asked ye before if ye trusted me and ye said yes."

Abby squeezed his hand. "And I do."

"Then I think it's time ye got yer knees dirty."

"What do you mean?"

"Straddle me, as ye thought about me doing to thee, the first time we met."

Abby was indignant. "I did not think about you doing it to me! I merely pointed out that it was appropriate for you to be dirty too."

"Ye may tell yerself that if ye like. Come here." He pulled her over so that she was sitting astride his thighs, her knees making dents in the grass either side of him. He looked up at her, his eyes darker than the loch, and deeper. He was no longer smiling, just watching her intently as he unfastened the bow at the top of her bodice and let the ties fall loose. Abby swallowed. Her heart was beating hard, her breaths were fast and shallow. She knew he was excited, she could see the bulge in his kilt. If she was going to stop this, now was the time. She was unable to move, though, rooted to her spot astride him as Kane pulled each of the laces of her dress slowly out of its row of eyelets, crisscrossing his way down until there was nowhere left to go and her bodice gaped open, revealing her chest to him.

Ye can still stop this, Abby, she thought, and then oh, his fingers were pushing the material further apart and his hands were cupping each breast, thumbs brushing her nipples, and she was lost. She could feel a throbbing in her sex, something she hadn't felt in a long time, a longing, an aching need. She had to stop this now. Had to.

"Kane."

He put a finger to her lips. "Shush."

His hands strayed down her sides, to her waist, and then lower, until he began pushing the hem of her skirt up, slowly easing the material over her thighs. She put her hands on his to stop him.

"I can't."

"Ye can, Abby, if ye let yerself."

Abby's hands were shaking atop his. He took them, pressed them together and brought them to his lips and kissed them.

"I want you," he whispered.

And she wanted him, wanted him so badly, had from the moment he'd pulled her towards him in the rushes, but this, what they were doing now, it was crossing a line as wide as the sea. If she let it happen, there would be no going back, she would be an adulterer. This should stop. Now. But she was drawn to him, like the tide to the moon. There was no stopping it.

"Let me kiss you," he said, and she leaned forward to meet his lips. It was a harder kiss this time, urgent, passionate. Alasdair never kissed her, not even a peck to say hello or goodbye. Kane's tongue was trying to push her lips apart, gentle, but insistent. She opened her mouth and let his tongue meet hers. It was thrilling to be so intimate with a man; he was tasting her, and he must have liked it because he was moaning and gripping her closer to him. She could feel his manhood beneath her stomach as she lay atop him, hard and long, and twitching as he kissed her more fiercely. With a courage that she didn't know she had within her, she slipped her hand between them and let her fingers roam over his kilt where it bulged, exploring the shape of him. Kane jumped and Abby removed her hand quickly.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry."

"No, don't be sorry. It was just, unexpected, that's all." He took her hand in his. "Will ye put it on me, underneath?" She let him put her hand beneath his kilt, on top of his member, and she stroked the length of it, from bottom to top. It was smooth and rough in different places, and wet at the tip. She ran her thumb across the top and round the head and it jumped and jerked beneath her touch. Kane let out a series of shaky breaths.

"Ye will be the undoing of me," he whispered.

"Are we going to do this?" Abby whispered back, her voice shaky with all the conflicting emotions that were surging within her.

"I think we are," replied Kane. "I think we have to."

Abby watched as he took his manhood in his hand and stroked it a couple of times.

"Come closer," he said and she moved up his body and raised herself until she was hovering above his shaft. He placed it between her legs and began to push it inside her. She tensed, expecting the pain that always accompanied her husband's entrance, but apart from a little discomfort as she stretched to accommodate him, there was no pain. He guided her down so that she sank slowly onto his shaft until it filled her and she was resting on his thighs again, only this time, he was inside her. To feel a man so full and heavy and deep within her was not something she had ever experienced before and she simply sat still to get used to the feeling.

Kane had groaned the whole time she was sliding down his shaft and now he tried to lift her. "Ye need to move, Abby. I can't hold on like this."

"You want me to get off you?"

"No, heavens, no. I want ye to move, like when ye're riding yer horse at a gallop across the moors and ye're lifted out of yer saddle and back down with every stride. Move like that."

Abby started to move up and down on his shaft as he had instructed. She had to put her hands on his bare chest to support herself. Kane's head was flung back on the grass, his hair for once swept away from his face. His eyes were closed and she watched him as she rode him. His face was alive with movement as grimaces and smiles flickered across. His mouth was slightly open and short puffs of breath were escaping him, punctuated with soft moans. She wasn't sure if she was doing this properly because he looked in pain some of the time and his hands were gripping her waist tight as he helped her move. She paused on a downstroke, ready to ask him if he was okay.

His eyes flew open. "Don't stop, Abby. Don't stop."

She commenced again and he urged her on. "Ride faster, Abby. Please."

So she did, feeling silly and free and wild all at the same time. His member plunging in and out of her felt good, like scratching an itch, and every now and then the tip of him found the perfect spot, that place where the itch was at its keenest. It was so satisfying when it touched there. She tried to find that spot again, wiggling from side to side as well as up and down on him but it was like chasing a butterfly when the sun was strong. Kane was muttering something she couldn't make out under his breath and a few moments later she could feel him emptying inside her with a long groan. He pulled her roughly down to meet him, capturing her lips again in a kiss that was wetter and more chaotic than before.

"I'm sorry, Abby," he said when they at last broke apart. He helped her climb off him, his member slipping out of her and she felt the loss of it, an emptiness where before she was full.

"Why are you sorry? Did you not like it?" She hesitated. "Was it not good?" She knew she wasn't very good at the act, Alasdair had told her so often enough, and she and Jacob didn't get a lot of practice in before Clarke came along, and then he was ill.

Kane caressed her face, kissed her nose. "Ye were beautiful, as I knew ye would be. No. I'm sorry because I was selfish. I couldn't help myself and ye didn't get any pleasure."

"I did." Abby wasn't sure what he meant. She had never in her life felt as good as she did at that moment, she was so free.

"Not as much as ye could have had."

Abby thought for a moment. "Oh, you mean those tremors, that women sometimes have? You don't have to worry; I rarely get those. It is of no concern to me."

A look crossed Kane's face that seemed a mixture of sadness and amusement. "Oh, Abby. I think I can change yer mind on that. In fact, if ye follow what I do very carefully, ye can give yourself pleasure whenever ye need to."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because sometimes in the coming days, ye will think of me, and what we just did, as I will think of thee, and ye will want to, trust me. Now lie back against me."

He sat with his back against the tree and Abby nestled in the vee of his legs. "Bend yer knees and spread yer legs apart." Abby felt heat building within her at the boldness of his words but she did as he instructed. Her cheeks were flaming and she was glad he couldn't see her face. He put his hand beneath her skirt and ran his fingers over the inside of her thigh. She trembled, she couldn't help it, and then suddenly his fingers were on her sex and she gasped. He ran them up and down the length of her and dipped them inside, where she was still sore and throbbing from his manhood. Then he started making circles in her flesh, over the hard nub at the top of her opening and down over her lips. Round and round, over and over, until she began to feel a tingling in her toes and a warmth in the area he was caressing.

"Ye can do this too, when ye are alone. Imagine it is me that is doing this to ye, my hands, my fingers, touching ye, caressing ye."

Abby could hardly breathe at his words and the sensations he was building up within her.

"Touch your breast, roll your nipple between your finger and thumb, pinch it." He sensed her hesitation. "Do it, Abby."

She had never touched herself in front of someone else. Never touched herself like this ever. She caressed her nipple, squeezed it. A pulse ran from her breast to where Kane's fingers were rubbing her and she cried out.

"That's it. Ye can do this. Let me give you this."

She lay back against him and played with her breast while he watched her, his hand busy between her legs. His circles were getting smaller and faster, concentrated around the nub and she was getting warmer all over; heat was flowing in waves along her limbs and a tension was building beneath his fingers that was making her ache for a release. Kane kept up his steady rhythm and the feeling was building, and building, pulsing and contracting until finally it exploded within her and the waves of heat flowed all the way to her head, making her feel faint. Her heart was racing and she was moaning though she was hardly aware of doing it.

Kane wrapped his arms around her, held her tight. "Is it of no concern to ye now, whether ye are pleasured or no?"

Abby was too shocked, too tired, too emotional to laugh or speak or do anything, so she lay there in his arms, letting the sun warm her face, until she had recovered her senses. At last she felt able to face him. She sat up, and turned towards him.

"Do all women feel that?"

"Those that are loved properly."

"I didn't know." To have lived her whole life not knowing that her body was capable of something like that was a shock to Abby. She had felt things during sex before, mostly with Jacob, sometimes with Alasdair in the early days, pleasurable feelings, but nothing like Kane had just brought out in her.

Kane kissed her. "Ye're beautiful, Abby."

He lay back on the grass and pulled her into his arms. Her head rested on his bare chest and she teased the soft hairs with her fingers. She wanted to ask him something, but was afraid to know the answer.

"I know ye're thinking," Kane said. "I can feel yer thoughts buzzing through yer head."

Abby laughed. "You cannot."

"I can. They're making my chest vibrate. Ye're wondering how soon it will be before we can do what we just did again."

"I am not!"

"Ye are, don't be shy. Ye must be patient. My cock is old, Abby, like me. It needs its rest."

"Your cock?" The word felt strange coming from her mouth, foreign, exciting. "Is that what you call it?"

"Aye, don't thee?"

"I have never named one before."

"It is not a name that only I use. 'Tis a general term, I believe."

"Oh. Well, that is not what I was thinking about."

"What then?"

She breathed in slowly, then out again, readying herself. "You have been with many women."

"Aye, a few."

"Am I another conquest to you? Do you seduce all the Ladies in this manner?"

Kane stroked her hair. "It is thee that has seduced me."

"I am being serious."

"As am I. Do ye think yerself incapable of making a man want thee?"

Abby thought back to all the times she had dressed up to please Alasdair's business partners, to attract them, distract them.

"No, but that doesn't answer my question."

"We are only just starting to bloom, Abby. I don't know what we will turn out to be. Ye are not like any of the other women, I told ye that. What about thee?"

"Me?"

"Aye. What am I to thee?"

Abby had never considered that he might see himself as her conquest. What _was_ he to her? Freedom, excitement, escape? She could not admit any of those things to him, not yet.

"I only know I can't stop thinking about you."

"Then we are the same." Kane kissed the top of her head and Abby curled into him. She smiled into his chest and he must have felt her do so because he pulled her tighter into him.

"I must leave soon, Abby. I am expected at camp."

Disappointment washed over Abby. She didn't want this moment to ever end, though she knew it must. They couldn't very well lie here for ever.

She sat up and Kane followed suit.

"When will we see each other again? Tomorrow?"

"I cannot meet tomorrow, or the next day. I am away on a trip."

"I have only a few days before my husband returns."

"Three days from now, then. I will be waiting for ye."

Abby nodded. She looked down at herself, at her bodice gaping wide open and her skirts in disarray.

"Can you help me fasten this up?"

Kane threaded the laces back through their eyelets in a reverse of what he had done earlier, and pulled the threads tight at the top. He sighed.

"It's a damn shame to have tae do that."

"Let me do yours." She tied the laces of his shirt while he watched. "Do you think people will notice?"

Kane stood back, appraising her. "No, ye look just as if ye were out on the hills collecting yer herbs."

That wasn't what Abby meant, but she didn't correct him. She didn't want him to know how truly different she felt, how shocked she still was at what he had given her. She felt transformed, and surely people at home would be able to tell? Kane was still talking to her and she brought her attention back to him.

"I don't know how I can wait three days," he said.

"I know, but we must."

Kane moved in to kiss her and she let him, ending up breathless again when they broke apart.

"Ye are making it difficult to leave, Abby."

"It was you who kissed me!"

"Aye, but did ye have to kiss me back so passionately? Ye're rousing me again."

Abby grinned. "Then you had better go, before I do something about that."

Kane sighed. "Three days. Remember, if ye can't wait that long, I have shown thee what to do about it."

With that he mounted his horse and rode away, shouting for his dog as he went, leaving Abby standing beneath the tree, her heart pounding, skin flushed. The thought of doing to herself what he had done to her made her warm all over. She didn't think she could ever do that. She could wait three days; she was sure of it.


	7. Discovery

CHAPTER SEVEN - DISCOVERY

The Loch, West of Arkholm

Kane had slept fitfully the previous night, and would rather be out in the fresh air than tossing and turning in his bed, so he'd ridden to the loch in the dawn's early light, lying under the willow tree as the last of the stars disappeared from the sky. He'd hoped Abby would be early too, as desperate to see him as he was to see her, but the sun was climbing higher in the sky and there was still no sign.

Unable to sit still any longer, he stripped off his clothes and boots and dived into the water, which was only just warming up as the sun rose higher. The cold made his heart race. He had swum the length of the loch twice when he stopped to rest a moment and saw that Abby was standing on the shore, wrapped in the cloak she had worn the first time he had set eyes on her. It was a deep blue, trimmed with gold, and he thought she was a vision in it. She raised a hand to him in greeting, and he smiled.

"Why don't ye come in, Abby? The water's lovely and warm."

"It is October. The water is not warm."

"It is in this loch; it traps the sun."

"I know the temperature of the water, Kane. I swim here all the time."

Kane was surprised. He'd teased her about coming to bathe in the loch when they first met here, but he'd never considered that she actually did. He should have realised; this was her sanctuary, where she could be herself, let that wild side free.

"Then ye are used to it. What are ye waiting for?"

Abby stood on the shore, watching him as he trod water in the centre of the loch. She was thinking her options through as usual, weighing up the consequences of each. Of course, getting into the water would mean getting undressed, and they had not seen each other completely naked yet. Kane knew it was a big step for her; no wonder she was debating it hard. He was covered by the water, but she would have to wade into it in full view of him. She had not expected him to be in the loch and now she was having to come to terms with something else new. He thought about making it easier for her and getting out, meeting her on safer ground, but he was sure she would find the courage; it was simply a matter of waiting.

He didn't have to wait long, because she unfastened her cloak and hung it in the tree, and Kane knew she had made her decision. She turned back towards him and he watched as she bent down to slip off her shoes, pull down her knee-high stockings. She stood up straight again and undid the laces on her bodice, reaching round the back to unfasten her skirt. Her movements were perfunctory, as though she was getting ready for bed, but Kane found the scene more intensely erotic because of the simplicity of it. She pushed her dress down to the floor and stepped out of it, then she simply stood and looked at him. He had always thought she was small, and delicate, but standing here now, with nothing to hide her true self, she was all strength. Toned arms, flat stomach and long legs with muscular calves from all the riding she did. Her breasts were full, the nipples pink and hard, her skin pale apart from the vee of dark hair between her legs. Kane's cock pulsed as the blood flowed to it. He had never wanted a woman as much as he did Abby, and this was why. She had a strength that was not weakened by her circumstances, even if she did not think so herself. He forced himself to speak, even though he just wanted to stare at her a while longer.

"Are ye coming in or no? The water isn't going tae get any warmer."

He was rewarded with a smile, and then she was wading towards him, the water slowly covering up her body until she was off her feet and forced to swim. As she got closer, she dived under the water and disappeared. When she surfaced, she was behind him.

"If you want me, you're going to have to catch me." Then she swam away.

Kane swam after her. She was fast, but he was bigger, and covered more ground in one long crawl than she did in two. He overtook her before she reached the island. The water was shallower here, no higher than his waist, and he planted his feet on the soft bed of the lake and waited for her to approach.

"I do want thee," he said, and then he took her in his arms and kissed her. She must have eaten some blaeberries on her way over because she tasted of them, sweet and sharp at the same time. His hands roamed over her body, into the hollow of her back, down beneath the water to her arse, which was small and firm. He pressed her closer to him, pushed his growing hardness against her. He parted her cheeks with his hands and ran his fingers along her length from behind. She moaned. He put the tip of his finger inside her; she was wet already. He was pleased to see she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

"I missed thee," he said.

"I missed you too, so much."

She trailed her hands over his chest, thumbing his nipples, following the line of hairs down beneath the water to his cock. Kane moaned as her fingers explored around it, grazing the root, making him jump as he had the last time.

"Touch me, Abby, like ye did the other day."

She stroked him, fingers wrapping round him, squeezing him.

"It is not as big as it was then."

Kane nearly choked on the laugh that bubbled up inside him at her comment. She was going to be the death of him.

"The water is cool. Ye'll have to warm me up."

Abby caressed his cock, pushing the skin up over the head and pulling it back down again with every stroke, exposing the sensitive head to the cold water.

"Tell me what you want," she whispered.

"Like ye are doing, but put yer thumb on this vein here." He positioned her hand where he wanted it. "Put pressure on when ye move your hand up and down, not too much."

He closed his eyes while she massaged his cock as he liked. It had been a while since anyone had done this for him and it was so good. Blood was pumping through his cock, warmed by her actions, and she chased each pulse, following it up to the tip and squeezing him, making him pulse even more. When he opened his eyes, he saw she was watching him closely, looking for clues in his face as to what gave him the most pleasure.

He watched her, watching him as she stroked his cock, and he wanted to let her continue until he came it was so pleasurable, but if he did that he would have to wait until he was ready again before he could be with her as he wanted. And he couldn't wait any longer. He stayed her hand.

"Let's go to the island. I want to lay with thee."

He took her hand and led her out of the water onto the island. They lay side by side on the grass, bodies pressed together as he kissed her lips, her neck, and down to her breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking on it until he made her moan with pleasure. Her skin was still damp from the loch, and tasted smoky from the peat water, like whisky. He was tempted to go lower, to taste the essence of Abby, but he suspected that would be too much, too soon, so he contented himself by stroking her with his fingers, bringing the wetness out of her until she was ready to take him.

"That feels so good," she said, running her fingers through his hair.

"I am glad. Are you ready for me?"

She nodded and he rolled her onto her back. She spread her legs and he entered her slowly, savouring the feeling of sliding into her.

"Oh," she cried.

"Yes," he said. "Ye feel good to me too."

He moved, slowly at first, finding his rhythm, enjoying the friction that was building up. Abby wrapped her legs around his back, drawing him closer to her.

"Kane?"

"Hmm?"

"The other day, when we were together. Sometimes, there was a different feeling, inside me. I tried to chase it but it kept disappearing."

He stopped moving. "Ye got a nice feeling when I hit a certain point in ye?"

"Yes, very nice."

"I'll try to find it for ye." He shifted his angle slightly, lifted her legs higher and she wrapped them more tightly around him. "Let me know when ye get that feeling."

She nodded, and he thrust into her again, carefully, with more precision than he had before. He wanted to find the right spot, wanted her to feel as much pleasure as possible. She was quiet at first, her eyes screwed shut as she concentrated. Kane couldn't help smiling at her, even though she couldn't see him. The more he got to know of her, the more of his heart he lost. There would be nothing left of him soon. Then she spoke.

"Oh!"

"Is it there?"

"Yes, there. Oh!"

She arched upwards to meet him and he forced himself to keep thrusting in the same place; it was hard, because his climax was starting to build and he wanted to let go, but he knew if he did he would lose that perfect spot within her.

Abby's breaths were coming faster and shorter as he increased the rhythm of his thrusts, soft moans escaping her with every exhale. He put his hand between them, massaging her sex until she came, pulsing beneath his hand, muscles squeezing his cock rhythmically. He let himself go, then, his thrusts wild and erratic until that hot, sweet sensation overcame him and he emptied into her with a long groan. He collapsed on top of her and she put her arms around the back of his head and pulled him in for a gentle kiss. Afterwards, he rolled onto his back, and they lay next to each other, looking up at the sky.

"I did not know such things could happen to my body."

"Ye have not had these feelings before."

"No. I was never ready for my husband. But you, I ache for you, even when you are not here. I can't explain it."

"It is because ye want me, as I want thee. Did ye do what I showed ye, when ye felt like this?"

"I tried, but it did not work the same. It took much longer than when you touched me. I got tired."

"Ye need to practice, and it will get easier."

Abby cuddled into him. "I am happy enough with you."

Kane smiled, pleased that he was satisfying her. He closed his eyes, and drifted away, with the sun warm on his body, and Abby in his arms.

When he woke, he saw that the sun had crossed the mid-point of the sky. Abby was not lying next to him and he looked around for her, spotting her sitting on a rock. She had taken her hair out of its braid and was combing her fingers through it. He had never seen her hair loose; it was long and golden brown and wavy from being confined within the braid.

"Ye should wear yer hair down more often. It suits thee."

She looked up when she heard his voice, and smiled. "You're awake."

Kane nodded. "Have ye not slept?"

"Only a short while. I don't know why I am bothering to straighten my hair, it will only get wet again when we cross the lake."

Kane's cock stirred again at the sight of her sitting on the rock naked, her long hair covering those beautiful breasts.

Abby noticed his desire. "You are rousing again."

"Aye, it's what ye do to me. Come here."

She walked over to him and he pulled her down so that she was straddling him. She sank onto his cock again and rode him, her long hair tickling his chest as she bent over to brace herself either side of him.

"I don't ever want to leave here," she said afterwards, as they lay in the afternoon sun.

"It is getting harder and harder to do so," admitted Kane.

"But we must."

Kane sighed. "Aye, we must."

Neither of them wanted to contemplate that thought just yet, so they lay in silence until clouds blew in from the east and greyed the sky. The temperature started to drop and Kane sat up. He looked down at Abby; her eyes were closed and she was snoring lightly. He stroked the side of her face, waking her as gently as he could.

"We need to go. The weather is on the turn."

Abby sat up and looked at the sky.

"Aye, it looks like it may rain."

Kane smiled.

Abby looked at him quizzically. "What?"

"Ye said aye."

"I did not."

"Ye did."

She smiled back at him and he kissed her. "Ye need to be careful about that, though, Abby. 'Twill make people wonder."

"I will."

"Shall I race you back to the shore?"

"Aye," she said, and laughed, before running and jumping into the loch before Kane had a chance to process what she had done. He swam after her, only catching her up as they neared the far side of the loch.

When they reached the shallower water, Abby stood up and waded to the shore ahead of him. Kane saw her back for the first time. The lower area of it was covered in scars, small circles that were a faded purple. He reached out to grab her arm before she could get too far away. She turned with a smile and his heart nearly stopped. She didn't realise what he had seen.

"Abby."

"You are not ready again so soon, surely?" She laughed, and then frowned when she saw his expression. "What is it?"

"Yer back."

He saw the realisation dawn in her face. She closed her eyes. "Oh." Her hand went to her back, fingers rubbing over the old wounds. "It is nothing."

Kane turned her round so he could see them. He counted ten scars. He touched them with shaking fingers; they were smooth, long-healed but still purple, like old wine stains. "It is not nothing, Abby. How did ye get these?"

She pulled away from him. She must suddenly have felt exposed because she put her arms over her breasts to cover herself. "It was a long time ago."

"Let us get out of the water. Ye look cold." Kane waded out and unhooked Abby's cloak from the tree branch. He wrapped her in it, buttoning it up so that it stayed tight around her. He fastened his kilt around his waist and pulled his shirt on but he was so wet it clung to him. He hardly noticed; it would soon dry in the sun.

Abby stood in front of him; she wouldn't look at him, just stared at the grass as though she had seen some rare flower that required intense scrutiny.

"Don't put yer head down. Ye have nothing to be ashamed of. Ye can't have done this to yerself."

Kane had a feeling he knew how she had come by the scars, not the exact means, but the perpetrator. He wanted her to tell him herself, though. He sat on a long, flat rock and picked at some grass, keeping quiet in the hope that whatever internal debate she was having with herself would lead to her deciding to trust him. He would not push it. If she didn't want to tell him then he would have to respect that. Anger was building inside him already, though, he could feel its heat in the pit of his stomach.

After a long couple of minutes Abby sat next to him on the rock. She didn't speak but he put a tentative arm around her and she leaned in to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"It was many years ago," she said, in a voice so quiet he could hardly hear her. "I thought they must have faded away by now."

"Scars such as these will never fade completely," said Kane, his voice gentle. "I have a few myself."

Abby nodded. "I have seen them."

"I got my scars in battle, the ones on my chest. The ones on my face; this one, here, and this one." He pointed to the scars on his lower lip and eyebrow. "I got these in a fight with my brother when we were young men. He pushed me to the ground and I hit my face on some sharp rocks. And there were other fights, with other men."

Abby looked up as he pointed the scars out, and then she reached out and touched his face. He put his hand over hers, guided it to the other scars that he had got in numerous fights over the years. Tears glistened in her eyes.

"My husband gave me my scars."

Kane nodded, gave her a weak smile of understanding. He held onto her hand.

"What was the circumstance?" He had to choose his words carefully, nearly asked why did he do it as though Abby was somehow to blame. Kane could not think of anything she could have done that would justify her husband's actions. There was no excuse.

"He wanted a baby. A son. I did as well, a brother or sister for Clarke. I wanted that so badly."

"But it didn't happen?"

She shook her head. "No. He said it was my fault, that I was tainted. It took me a year to fall with Clarke. Every month when there was no baby he got angrier. He would hit me, a slap at first, then harder, a fist. Then one day, something else had happened, some business he was trying to conduct in Edinburgh went wrong and he found out I had my monthly blood and he picked up a hot poker from the fire and hit me with it across my back. That was the last time he hit me. I think he knew he had gone too far."

Gone too far! How did she think that any length travelled along a road of hitting a woman was not too far? Kane's rage was white hot, and burning within him. He didn't trust himself to speak. Abby squeezed his hand. She looked fearful, and Kane was ashamed that he couldn't control himself enough to reassure her.

"Kane?"

Kane took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

"I am sorry, Abby."

"What are you sorry for? Don't feel sorry for me, I have lived with it a long time."

"He shouldn't get away with doing that to ye."

"It was many years ago. There was nothing to be done then, and there is nothing to be done now."

Kane could not bring himself to agree with that statement. There was plenty to be done about it, and he already had some ideas.

"Kane. Please don't do anything to him; he mustn't know about us, he will kill us both if he finds out."

"Abby. I can't promise ye that I will do nothing, but I promise he won't find out about us. I will never let him hurt thee again."

Abby sighed. He could tell she was resigned to being unable to stop him, and she wasn't happy about it. A war was raging within him. He knew that Abby wanted him to leave it alone, it was history for her but it was new to him. His anger was as strong and fresh as if it had happened yesterday. He shouldn't be making her feel worse, making her worry, but she couldn't fight for herself, no woman could in this society. Alasdair had to pay, but it had to be in a way that could never be linked to Abby. Kane sat quietly, plotting his best move. He had almost forgotten Abby was there until she spoke with a resigned voice.

"Don't kill him."

"I won't."

He kissed her but it was a chaste kiss. She kept her lips firmly closed and he didn't press her for anything more. The happy mood of earlier was gone, and they sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. When he took her hand in his, though, laced his fingers through hers, she didn't resist.

Griffin Summer Home, Duns, Berwickshire

In the dead of the night, three figures sat with their backs against a stone wall, out of sight of the guards that patrolled the grounds of Duns House, the summer residence of the Griffin clan.

"I still don't see why we're putting ourselves at risk like this," grumbled Murphy. "It's barely a month since we last raided this clan."

"No one wants yer opinion, Murphy," replied Raven.

Kane could see Murphy and Raven pulling faces at each other in the gloom, as though they were children instead of twenty-something.

"Quiet, both of ye. Do ye want the guards to hear us before we're ready?" Kane looked through his pouch, checking once again that everything he needed was at hand. "Do ye have the cloths and the potion ready, Raven?"

"Aye."

"And ye're sure this will work?" Raven gave Kane a look that said more than words. "Alright, alright. So, three guards in front of this entrance, we take one each. Then, Bellamy should have unlocked the door."

"What if the guards wake up before we are done?" asked Murphy.

"That can't happen," replied Kane. "I don't want anyone to know we were here. I want Lord Griffin to puzzle long and hard about how he was robbed."

"What has he done to thee, Kane, to deserve two raids in a month? There must be something."

Kane didn't answer Murphy's question directly. The boy was too quick for his own good, always thinking, plotting. "I've told ye, I had information that he has a large amount of money with him, and he keeps it in his chamber. We need everything we can get, Murphy, ye know that."

Murphy nodded, but Kane could tell he didn't fully believe him. Kane dismissed the thought; he had more pressing things to concern himself with. "We only have time to get into the wing where Lord Griffin sleeps," he continued. "Find the hidden money, and get out before the guards awake."

"Swift as the raven, quiet as the mouse," said Raven.

"Aye, that's right. Are we ready?"

The other two nodded and they crept around the wall, spreading out into a fan shape to come upon the three guards silently. Kane had the one in the middle and as he approached him he opened his bottle of potion and soaked the cloth in it. There was a slight odour from the poteen but no gas. Raven had made the potion stable as a liquid. Kane didn't know how the boy did what he did, but was thankful he was on their side. Kane put the cloth over the mouth and nose of the guard from behind and the man fell swiftly to the ground. He looked either side of him. Raven and Murphy had accomplished their tasks and they came back together as they approached the door of the tower that held Alasdair Griffin's private chambers. Kane turned the heavy latch; it creaked, loud in the quiet night air, but did not give.

"Damn!" Bellamy had not unlocked the door.

"What are we going to do?" asked Murphy.

"Let's give him a moment."

They stood with their bodies pressed flat against the wall of the tower in case any other guards walked past. Kane was tapping his foot with frustration. They were wasting valuable time. Then there was a creak as the handle turned and the door opened. Kane risked a glance towards it. Bellamy was framed in the candlelight coming from within the tower.

"What took you?"

"Sorry, Sir. He has only just retired to his chamber."

Kane grimaced. He had been hoping Alasdair was long asleep. If he was still awake he might hear them as they moved their equipment into place. He wasn't changing his plans now, though. He beckoned Raven and Murphy to follow him and they crept up the stone stairs with Bellamy leading the way. Kane's heart was thumping in his chest. He always enjoyed these moments, the thrill of putting a plan into action, the fear of being caught. It made his blood race. It was the most he ever felt alive, until he had met Abby.

The thought of her, and what her husband had done to her, spurred him on. What he most wanted to do was beat Alasdair until he was bloody and couldn't remember his own name, but that was of no help to Abby. It would only satisfy Kane, and Abby's safety was more important than his own gratification.

At the top of the tower, Bellamy indicated Alasdair's bedchamber and then retreated down the stairs. Kane signalled to Raven and he unrolled the apparatus he had used to subdue the English Lords. The door to Alasdair's chamber was thick and tight-fitting but there was a small gap underneath it and Raven had adapted the tube to fit more easily beneath it. The gas would take longer to fill the room, exposing them to greater risk. This would not matter if Alasdair was asleep but if he was still awake, there was every chance he would notice the gas or hear them as they worked the bellows. Kane decided the risk was worth taking so they began the task.

When Raven had deemed enough gas had entered the room, Kane turned the door handle, so slowly it seemed to take half the night. The lock finally clicked and he eased the door open, peering around the edge into the room, which was dark. He could hear Alasdair snoring. The gas had worked again. They entered the room and began their search for the hidden money. Bellamy had told Kane where it was hidden; it was in a box behind a panel that was covered by a tapestry, but Kane wanted the room to look ransacked, as though the thieves did not know where they were looking. Alasdair was bound to suspect an inside job but Kane wanted to leave as little evidence as possible so that the Lord could not point any fingers.

While his companions searched, Kane went over to Alasdair's bed and looked down at him. He was the same age as Kane, only two years older than Abby, but he looked much older. The sheet covering him was pushed upwards by his large belly. His face was relaxed in repose, his jowls sagging, a grey beard not doing enough to cover them. Kane hated the thought of him touching Abby, laying with her. What must it be like for her to be with a man she did not love, and didn't even like? Kane had never married, because no woman he'd met until now had come close to being good enough to spend the rest of his life with. He'd lain with plenty of women, but he had never imagined any of them as a partner in life, and as far as he knew, no woman had ever thought that about him. He would rather be alone than have to be with someone he didn't love, but Abby had no choice, had never been able to make a choice, and never would as long as she was stuck with this wife-beating, cheating, corruption of a man.

Kane bent over Alasdair, felt the man's foul breath on his face as he leaned in. "Ye will never hurt her again," he whispered. He jumped when Raven tapped him on the shoulder.

"We have the chest, Kane. It is full of money as ye said."

Kane looked around the room, satisfied at the level of disarray they had left. It looked authentic to him, but he could only guess how Alasdair would view it when he woke. The thought of his bewilderment, and then rage when he realised he had been robbed, filled Kane with a pleasure so great it made him smile.

"What's so funny?" asked Raven.

"Nothing. Let's go."

They ran as fast as they could down the stairs towards the door. As they reached the bottom floor, Bellamy was holding the door for them.

"Is it done?"

"Aye."

Murphy and Raven passed through the door and out into the night. Bellamy looked at Kane, and gave the older man a slight nod. Kane formed a fist with his hand and then punched Bellamy in the face, sending the boy reeling across the floor of the tower. He stood over his prone body, checked that he was still breathing, which he was. "Forgive me," he said to the unconscious groomsman, and then he slipped out of the door, leaving it wide open. He had wasted some time checking on Bellamy and he was some moments behind Raven and Murphy when he ran into the grounds of the house. He couldn't see them ahead of him, so he made for their rendezvous point as agreed. He was shocked when a figure loomed out of the darkness.

"Stop right there." The figure came into view and Kane recognised it as Alasdair's right-hand man, Sinclair. The two men faced each other, only a strip of ground a few yards wide between them. Sinclair was blocking Kane's escape route. Kane looked around quickly; there didn't appear to be any other guards nearby. He appraised Sinclair; the man had no weapon that Kane could see, and he did not move to draw one.

"I don't want any trouble," Kane said.

"Then ye shouldn't have come creeping around this house. What are ye doing here?"

"I am out for a stroll. 'Tis a beautiful night, is it not?"

"Don't get smart with me, Kane. I know who ye are and what ye are about."

Kane wondered why Sinclair was talking to him instead of trying to arrest him. Was he stalling until his guards arrived? That must be it. He had been caught unawares and had no support to hand. The guards they had knocked out with Raven's potion would be waking soon, though, and they would raise hell as soon as they realised something had happened. There wasn't much time to resolve this situation.

"Ye know, I heard ye used to be a good man, Sinclair, when ye worked for the elder Griffin. What happened to thee?"

"What would ye know of good men? Ye're a scoundrel. I know what ye did to My Lady. Ye're a disgrace."

For a heart-stopping moment Kane thought Sinclair was talking about his meetings with Abby, and then he realised that the entire Griffin household believed he had defiled Abby that night on the road from Edinburgh. As he looked at Sinclair, he became aware of movement low to the ground behind the Head Guard. The person responsible made a sudden noise and Sinclair turned to see what it was. In that split second, Kane pounced on him, twisting one of Sinclair's arms up his back. He drew his ballack knife, held it to Sinclair's throat.

"I don't want tae hurt thee."

"No, hurting women is more yer style." Sinclair tried to wriggle free but Kane tightened his grip.

"I'm not the only one who likes tae do that."

"What do ye mean?"

Kane realised he'd said enough. He didn't want Sinclair to guess the extent of his knowledge of Alasdair.

"In a few moments, yer Master is going to awake, and he won't understand how he has been robbed. The way I see it, ye have a choice. Ye can tell him how the Heid of his Guard was captured and beaten by the Grey Wolf, or ye can go back to yer bed and pretend ye know nothing about it. It's up to thee. I'll happily slit yer throat if that's what ye want." He pressed the knife further into Sinclair's throat. He had no intention of hurting the man, because he knew he had no choice really. Lord Griffin would be furious no matter what, but it would be far worse for Sinclair if his Master knew he had had the Grey Wolf in his grasp and let him slip away.

Sinclair relaxed in Kane's arms, his decision made. Kane moved the knife away from his throat, released the man from his grip.

"Ye're a dead man walking, Kane."

"Aye. What's new there?"

He left Sinclair standing in the grounds of the house, and made his way to the rendezvous where Raven and Murphy were waiting.

"Thank ye for the intervention, Murphy."

The young man nodded. "Ye're getting shoddy, Kane. Something is distracting you. Or someone."

Kane ignored him and mounted his horse. They made the long journey back to camp in silence.

Arkholm Tower, the next day

Abby was in the kitchen when Harper came in with a message for her.

"There's someone to see thee, Mistress. He won't see anyone else."

Abby nodded, confused. Who would want to see her? She followed Harper to the barmkin where a young man with long dark hair tied back in a ponytail was standing in the courtyard. He gave Abby a cheeky grin.

"Did ye call for a groomsman?"

Abby shook her head. "I don't think so. I do not deal with these matters. You need to speak to my Heid of the Guard, Sinclair, but he is away.

The young man moved closer to Abby.

"I was told ye need some help, Mistress. My name is Raven."

"Raven?" The name was familiar but for a moment Abby couldn't place it. Then she remembered the day Kane had turned up at the loch injured. He had said that a raven had helped him. Abby had assumed he was confused from his injuries and the long ride. Could he have been referring to a person all along?

"Aye, Mistress. A Wolf sent me. I am to protect thee."

Abby froze. Kane had sent him? For what purpose?

"I do not need protection. You can tell the Wolf I do not need thee."

"He said ye would say that, Mistress. I am to take ye on a ride. We have much to discuss." The young man nodded to one of the servants who brought Juno out of the stable. "Let's saddle-up shall we?"

Fear gripped Abby. She had not heard from Kane since he had discovered her scars and Alasdair's responsibility. Bellamy was with Alasdair at their Duns house and she had no other way of contacting Kane.

"What has the Wolf done?"

"Let us ride, Mistress, and I will tell thee all."

Abby mounted Juno, and followed Raven out of the barmkin, her heart in her mouth, fear burning in her stomach like acid. Kane was alive, otherwise he wouldn't have sent this man to help her, but what had he done to Alasdair, and was it so bad that he thought she needed protection? She felt sick, and torn in two. One half of her was desperate to hear the truth from Raven, and the other half was scared to hear it, worried that her life was about to change forever.


	8. Revelations

CHAPTER EIGHT - REVELATIONS

Sometimes, when Abby sat in her chair by the fire and thought about the last few weeks, it seemed as though she was living someone else's life. Up until now she had been sleeping through her existence, playing her roles of wife and mother that she knew so well she didn't have to think about them. Living quietly, in her tower of stone, lonely, and slowly dying, losing a little more hope every day. Then Kane had arrived in her life like a sudden storm, turning everything upside down. Now she had given her body, and most of her heart and mind, to Kane, and she had a servant who knew everything about her whether she liked it or not, and Raven, about whom she knew next to nothing, and yet had liked instantly. He was clever and resourceful, and made her laugh. Abby could see why Kane liked him so much, and trusted him to protect her. Going from having no one to talk to, to having three people in her confidence was difficult to adjust to when she had been so used to keeping everything inside. It made her feel vulnerable, as though she were made of glass, and everyone could see through her into the depths of her soul.

Abby felt especially vulnerable today because Alasdair was due home. She hadn't heard from him personally since Kane had robbed him so audaciously, but she had heard through Raven's sources that he was apoplectic when he woke to find his room had been turned over and all his money had been stolen. He had locked Blake and Sinclair in the dungeon for two days because he blamed them for the robbery, and now, four days after the event, he was on his way home, no longer trusting of the security of their summer residence. Abby had been waiting all morning for his return. She was so restless and on edge that she was struggling to sit still. She wanted to saddle Juno and ride until she was too exhausted to think any more. She did not dare leave the tower, however, for Alasdair was certain to want to see her when he arrived. She could stand to sit alone with her thoughts no longer, so she went down to the barmkin to see Raven, who was housed in a hayloft above the stable. There was no room in the tower for him, and he didn't want to lodge in the village as it was too far from Abby, so this was the best she could do for him.

Juno was standing quietly in the stable munching hay when Abby walked in. Abby stroked her nose, gave her an apple she had taken from the kitchen on her way out. "Hello, My Lady. How are you enjoying your new companion?" The horse ignored her, as she usually did. Abby began climbing the wooden ladder that led to the hay loft.

"Raven? Are you here?"

There was a scuffling noise from the loft and Raven's voice sounded, more high-pitched than usual.

"I'm here, Mistress. Just a moment."

Abby was used to having every room in her house open to her, and all servants at her beck and call, so it didn't cross her mind that Raven was telling her not to come in, and she continued climbing the ladder until she could poke her head up over the top and see into the loft. It was gloomy as the only light came from below, but as her eyes adjusted she could see that Raven was naked from the waist up except for a large white bandage which he was quickly tying around his chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Raven. Are you hurt?"

Raven kept his back to Abby. "It is nothing."

"Then why do you have a bandage around your chest? Let me see. Perhaps I can help you."

Abby climbed over the top of the ladder and walked over to Raven who was still turned away, holding the bandage tight around him.

"I don't need yer help. I'm fine."

The boy had a quiver in his voice and Abby was deeply concerned. What was so wrong that he didn't want her to see it? If he had a bad wound, she could help.

"Turn around, Raven, let me see you."

The boy turned slowly to face Abby. He looked her in the eye, his gaze seeming almost defiant as he dropped his hands so that Abby could unwind the bandage. When she pulled the final piece of cloth away, there was no wound, but she couldn't make sense of what she was seeing. Raven had breasts, not the fatty breasts men like her husband had when they were overweight, but female breasts, beautiful and pert with nipples the colour of earth. Abby stared at them, couldn't take her eyes off them, they were so unexpected. Eventually, Raven crossed her arms in front of her so that they were hidden from view.

"I'm not a freak, ye know."

"I'm sorry. I know. No, I don't know. You have breasts, Raven, but you're a man!" Abby had many questions but was unable to articulate any of them.

Raven gave a half-sigh, half-laugh. "Kane said ye were intelligent, but I'm not so sure. I'm no a man, Mistress. I'm a woman."

"You're a woman?"

Raven nodded. "Aye. These are all real, do ye wannae feel em?"

Abby shook her head, although she was tempted, because she still couldn't quite believe what her eyes, and Raven's words, were telling her.

"So, you're really a woman, but you pretend to be a man?"

"Ye win the prize, My Lady." Raven bent down to pick up her shirt and pulled it on, not bothering with the bandages which still lay in a heap where Abby had dropped them.

"Does Kane know about this?"

"Aye. He does. He's always known."

Kane knew Raven was a woman, and still he had put her in charge of protecting Abby. He must have a lot of faith in this young girl.

"Why do you do it?"

Raven sat on one of the hay bales and patted the one opposite her. "Why don't ye sit down, before ye fall down."

Abby sat down opposite Raven, studying her while the girl talked. Now that she knew the truth, it seemed impossible that she had not guessed before. She had huge dark eyes with long lashes and a full mouth that was soft and shaped like a bow. Her cheekbones were well-defined and feminine. It was the confidence she exuded and the cheeky grin that gave her the boyishness. She was cocky, like Kane, and unlike any woman Abby had ever met.

"Ye asked why I do it, but I think ye know why. It's impossible to be a woman in this society and have a brain. Well, ye can have a good brain but ye can't use it, so what's the point? I can't be constrained; I need to fly free."

Abby understood what Raven was saying all too well. She had felt the same things all her life, but it had never occurred to her that her life could be different. Was that a mistake? Had she been too passive in accepting her lot in life?

"It's different for a peasant like me than for a lady like thee," said Raven, who had clearly sensed Abby's state of mind. "Ye are helpless, if ye don't mind me saying it. Bound to yer father, and yer husband, no way to earn yer own income, set up by yerself. I had that freedom at least. Once I became a man, it were easy. I have a lot of skills."

"It must be so difficult for you, living among all those men in the Hundred clan?"

"Oh, aye. Ye dinnae want me to tell ye the stories I've got, Mistress. They'll curl yer toes." Raven laughed. "Kane protects me, as best he can." She smiled as she said his name, her eyes lighting up.

"You are fond of him?"

"He saved me."

Abby was about to ask how Kane had saved Raven when there was the clatter of many hooves out in the barmkin.

"The Master is returned," said Abby, her heart beating fast, her stomach churning. "You had better stay here for now. I don't want him to know about you yet."

Raven caught her arm as she was about to leave.

"Be careful. He knows it was Kane who robbed him. I mean, he has no proof, but he knows anyway."

Abby nodded and descended the ladder, heart in mouth.

Alasdair was exiting the carriage as Abby left the stable. It was the first time she had seen him since she and Kane had begun laying together and guilt overwhelmed her, making her flush from head to toe. She didn't want him to look at her, certain that he would sense the difference that she felt must be obvious to everyone. She had forgotten, though, that no one in her household ever really looked at her, especially her husband. She was an ornament that was passed over, until it was brought out and polished so that it shone for one night only and then was put back on the shelf to gather dust until the next time.

Alasdair barely glanced in her direction before heading into the tower. Sinclair was tight-lipped as he passed but he nodded at her. Blake had his head down but she could see the ghost of a smile on his face. Abby wanted to laugh; not because she found the situation funny, quite the opposite. She was so nervous a cold sweat was breaking out on her skin. She followed the men into the tower and up to the second floor where Alasdair conducted his business. In a corner of the large room was a wooden desk, made of oak and with the legs carved into griffin heads. In front of it was an assortment of other chairs, the whole arrangement designed to ensure Alasdair remained the head of any discussions at all times.

Alasdair took his seat behind the desk and Sinclair sat in front of him, with Blake standing discretely behind. Abby wasn't sure what to do; no one had spoken to her yet.

"Shall I arrange something to eat and drink for you, Alasdair?"

Her husband looked up, surprise on his face as though he was completely unaware that she was in the room.

"No. Blake can do it. I want to speak with you. Take a seat."

Blake left to inform the kitchen and Abby sat in the chair next to Sinclair. She had thought Alasdair would be angry, but he seemed calm. Too calm. She tried to take deep breaths to calm herself without Alasdair noticing she was doing so. It was not easy to do. He leaned back in his chair, appraising her.

"Where were you when I returned?"

"I was in the stable, with Juno."

"You spend too much time with that bloody horse."

Abby didn't answer. Her riding had long been an annoyance to Alasdair; she had learned it was wisest to keep quiet. She didn't want him to take Juno away from her. That horse was her freedom, and Abby loved her.

"You have heard what happened in Duns?"

Abby nodded. "I was sorry for your loss, Alasdair."

"It is our loss. No money means fewer dresses for you."

He spoke as though that was all Abby wanted or needed from life, beautiful dresses that she rarely got to wear to any gathering or party. She would be happier in a peasant dress; at least she could breathe and move in one of those.

"There will have to be sacrifices made," he continued.

"Of course," she replied, wondering what she had of any value that she could possibly give up.

"No more visits to the market unless I instruct it. You spent far too much money there the other week."

"Clarke was here. I wished to spoil her, that is all."

"Clarke is spoiled enough. What can she possibly need with more clothes and a portrait?"

Abby glanced at Sinclair, who flicked his eyes towards her without moving his head. So, Sinclair had told Alasdair the portrait was of Clarke or was for her? Why would he do that? To spare her even more of Alasdair's wrath perhaps. It was an unexpected kindness and it made Abby swallow hard as emotions bubbled within her. Blake returned at that moment, followed by servants with platters of cold meats and pies, and Abby was spared having to answer Alasdair.

Alasdair began eating. He indicated to Abby that she should take some food herself but she couldn't stomach it, was afraid it would get stuck in her throat she was so constricted with nerves.

"Perhaps I should leave you to your meal. I am certain you have much to discuss with Sinclair." She started to rise from her chair but Alasdair waved her back down.

"No. I have not finished with you yet."

Abby sat back down, lacing her fingers together so she would not fidget with them.

Alasdair continued. "You know who was responsible for the raid, don't you?"

"I do not, Alasdair. I have heard very little about it." How easy lies came once you had something to hide, thought Abby. She had always been a straightforward person, used to hiding her feelings of course, but she couldn't remember a time when she'd ever had to lie as she was now doing. It was shocking how little she had to think about it; the words just came out.

"It was that reiver, Marcus Kane."

"We have no proof of that, Sir," said Sinclair.

"I don't need bloody proof, Sinclair. It was the same method as that raid in Newcastle and everyone knows those bandits were responsible."

"We cannot take the case to the Sheriff without proof that it was Kane."

"I have no intention of making a case to the Sheriff. I'm going to hunt him down like the wolf he claims to be. He'll be dead before the Sheriff even hears about it."

Abby watched the exchange between the two men, her heart racing with the vehemence of Alasdair's words. Sinclair was also lying, she knew, because Raven had told her how close Kane had come to being captured. What a web they were all entangled in, each of them caught on different threads, unaware for the moment that they were all connected. How long would it be before Alasdair tugged on the right thread and the whole thing unravelled?

"Sir, I merely wish ye to be careful. The Hundred clan is powerful and ruthless. They will protect him."

"They won't be able to protect him if I take the whole sorry lot of them down. As for you." He turned his gaze on Abby. "I don't want you out on the hills anymore. He's already had you once, and you may not be much but I wouldn't put it past him to try again just to get at me."

Abby's stomach turned over at his words. She couldn't allow this to happen, but how was she to change his mind without betraying herself?

"Alasdair, I must venture out occasionally. If we are short of money then the herbs and plants I find will be necessary. What would your venison stew be without the juniper? Blake could accompany me, then I would be safe."

Alasdair shook his head. "Blake is needed with me. I must be at Edinburgh a lot in the coming weeks and I can't have him coming and going between here and there."

Blake coughed. "Sir, if I may. There is a new groomsman recently hired. He is most competent. My Lady could be entrusted to his care."

Alasdair turned to Sinclair. "Is this man competent, Sinclair?"

Abby's heart was in her mouth because she was certain Sinclair had no idea that a new groomsman had been hired. The gap between Alasdair's question and Sinclair's answer seemed to Abby to stretch further than the most distant star, and into eternity.

"Ahem. Yes, Sir, I believe he is most trustworthy."

Alasdair sighed extravagantly as though he was about to do Abby an enormous favour, which he was, although not as great a favour as he realised.

"Very well, then. You may leave only if you are accompanied by this groomsman, and stay close to the tower. No more riding to that bloody loch; I don't care if that's where the juniper is. Find it somewhere closer to home."

"I will. Thank you, Alasdair."

"Leave me. All of you."

Abby's relief was huge, leaving her feeling light as air as she left the room with Blake and Sinclair. Not being able to visit the loch was a disappointment but anything was better than being imprisoned in the tower never being able to see Kane again. Meeting closer to home involved greater risk, though. She would have to be extra careful, even with Raven's help.

"A word, My Lady." As they descended the stairs, Sinclair took her by the arm and steered her into a small mezzanine room between the second and first floors.

"Has something happened while I have been away?" he asked.

"What do you mean? Nothing has happened."

"There is a change in the air in this place. I cannot put my finger on what it is, but I don't like it, My Lady. I believe Kane is targeting His Lordship and ye may be in danger. Who is this groomsman and why have I heard nothing about him?"

"I am not privy to the hiring of the servants as you know, Sinclair. I have heard he came with good references, and I have felt secure in his presence so far."

Sinclair picked at one of his teeth with his thumb as he contemplated her words.

"I am not happy about any of this. It gives me a bad feeling. The Master is right to be concerned about ye riding out on the hills. It is too dangerous."

"If you are so concerned why did you approve the groomsman when you did not know about him? A word from you would have been all Alasdair needed to prevent me from leaving the tower."

"Aye, and that's why I kept quiet. I may not like it, but I dinnae want thee cooped up in here the rest of yer life. It's not right."

"Thank you, Sinclair."

"You can thank me by keeping out of trouble. Stay close to the tower and if ye ever see that Grey Wolf Kane make sure ye run as far as possible and tell me about it."

"I will."

Sinclair left and Abby went up to her chamber, every step on the narrow winding staircase increasing her guilt. After her conversation, if that's what you could call it, with Alasdair she was far less worried about betraying him than she was about Sinclair. The Head Guard only had her safety at heart, and his motives were true. Abby did not like that she was deceiving him with every thought she had. Alasdair had said she was not worth much, and he had said it so often that she had come to believe it. But there were people who did think she had value, and not just Kane, but Raven and Blake and Sinclair. All of them were helping her in their own ways.

As she entered her room, Raven was waiting for her.

"I need you to get a message to Kane. He must find somewhere closer to Arkholm for us to meet, for I can no longer visit the loch."

"I will go and see him tonight. When do ye want to meet?"

"As soon as is possible."

The girl nodded and left, and Abby sank into her chair by the fire. Something deep within her was starting to change; she could feel it in her stomach, like butterflies emerging from their chrysalides, flapping their damp gossamer wings in the sun. Her husband did not deserve her guilt so she was not going to waste it on him a moment longer. Kane had warned her not to be reckless, but that was how she felt. All of this could be taken away from her and she didn't care; the only fear she had was that she would take other people down with her, and that was the only thing keeping her from doing something foolish and rash.

It was Raven, in the end, who found a new place for Kane and Abby to meet, and she and Abby were heading out there now, nearly a week after Alasdair's return from their summer house. Abby hadn't wanted to seem too eager to leave the tower, and Raven had said Kane was busy working on a project with the Heid of his clan, Jaha, so it had been eight days in total since they had last seen each other. It was probably just as well it had been that long, because Abby had been so angry with Kane after their conversation on the rock. Her scars were her story, and he had turned them into his by heading off to attack Alasdair, ignoring her wishes, leaving her helpless again. Her anger had subsided as the days went on, but she Was determined to discuss it with him. Riding roughshod over her was what Alasdair did; she wasn't going to let Kane get away with doing the same.

The place they were headed was in the Lammermuir Hills, only seven miles from Arkholm and in the opposite direction to the loch and Abby's usual hunting grounds. They reached the edge of a cliff and Raven stopped.

"We're here," she said as she dismounted.

Abby looked around; there was nothing except hillside behind her, the edge of the cliff, and the view across the plains of Roxburghshire in front. She could see the River Tweed shimmering in the distance, and the twin Eildon hills rising majestically out of the flat landscape, and beyond them, to England.

"We are?"

"Aye. Trust me."

"Is Kane here? I don't see his horse."

"He'll be here, dinnae worry."

Abby dismounted, and Raven tethered Juno to a tree. Then she walked behind the tree and disappeared. Abby followed, and noticed a narrow path leading down the side of the cliff. It was impossible to see if you didn't know it was there. She picked her way down the path, careful of her footing on the loose sandstone. After a couple of minute's walking the path ended where it widened out to a grassy shelf with a large sandstone overhang above it. There was an opening in the rock beneath the overhang; it didn't stretch far enough back to be a true cave, more like a shelter. Kane was sitting on a rock a little way inside the shelter. He stood up as they approached, and smiled. Abby smiled back, her heart lifting at the sight of him, all thoughts of being angry with him banished for the time being. She wanted to run into his arms, but Raven was there, so she stood a short distance away, trying to keep her impulses in check. Raven had no such qualms and walked right up to Kane, giving him a quick hug.

"How are things at camp?"

"Same as always. Jaha left for France two days ago and we're not expecting his return for a sevenday at least. Murphy is missing thee."

Raven punched Kane's arm. "I bet he is."

Kane laughed. "He has noticed ye are missing. I won't repeat what he said in front of a Lady." He smiled at Abby as he said this. "I'm sure ye can guess."

"Aye. How long do ye think it will be before he starts asking the serious questions?"

"Not long. Ye'll have tae show yer face for a couple of days soon, otherwise he will start to get nosey."

Abby watched as Kane and Raven talked. It was strange to see him with another person, laughing and joking. Apart from when they first met and the time Blake saw him at the loch, Abby had only seen Kane alone. She thought of him as hers, forgot he had a life outside of their meetings, had people he clearly loved and cared for, and who cared for him. She felt a pang of jealousy at the ease with which Raven talked to him, borne of a long-held friendship. It made Abby feel insignificant, a fleeting presence in his life. They barely knew each other.

Raven was making some joke about Murphy but Kane was looking at Abby, watching her think, and she hoped he couldn't guess what was going through her mind.

"Never let it be said that the Raven outstayed her welcome," said Raven, looking at Kane and then Abby, and shaking her head, smiling. "I'll leave the two of ye alone."

She gave Kane a kiss on the cheek. "I'm going tae hunt out some mosses that will be good for an experiment I have in mind. I'll take yer horse, Abby, so no one will know ye're here. I won't be far, though, if ye need me."

Kane nodded. "I thank thee, Raven."

Abby smiled at Raven but didn't speak. It was embarrassing to think that this girl knew what she and Kane were probably going to do once she had left. Raven clearly wasn't bothered by the thought, but Abby was mortified.

Raven left but Abby didn't move, just stood looking at Kane, feeling awkward.

"Are ye going to stand there all day or are ye going tae come here and kiss me?"

She crossed the floor, then, propelled by her need to be in his arms, to smell him, touch him, be one with him. He slung his arm round the back of her neck again, bringing her in so that she was flat against him, her breasts crushed against his chest, his growing hardness pulsing against her groin. Their kiss was open-mouthed and wet, tongues chasing each other, teeth clashing. Desire was burning within her. She could recognise its signs now, the throbbing in her sex, the wetness gathering there. She pressed herself harder against him and he moaned.

"Abby! Oh, I've missed thee, I've missed thee."

His lips trailed down her neck to her throat, his hands pulled her skirt up, fingers finding her wetness, stroking her, making her gasp. She hadn't wanted to do this first, she wanted to speak to him, to talk, but now those thoughts were gone, obliterated by this overwhelming need to be with him, to have him inside her. She lifted his kilt, took his cock in her hand, stroked it like he had shown her. Kane groaned, thrusting himself into her hand, so she made a fist, squeezed him tight as he did. He walked her backwards, still stroking her, until her back hit the wall of the cave, then he lifted her leg, wrapping it round his back, and she guided him inside her. She let out a loud moan as he filled her, shocking herself that she could make such a noise. His thrusts were powerful, driving into her, pushing her back against the cold wall. She put her hands on his chest to steady herself. He undid the ties on her bodice, fingers a blur as he ripped the laces from their eyeholes. When her breasts sprung free he buried his face in them, kissing the swell of them, sucking her nipples. The stimulation was overwhelming. Heat was building within her, even though he wasn't hitting that sweet spot as he had last time. Nevertheless, every thrust he made brought more heat to her sex, made her pulse and throb. She slipped her hand down to touch herself as he had that day under the tree. She was hard there, like he was, only smaller and slippery. She made those same little circles and oh, it didn't take long before the feeling came again, hot, so hot, and spreading out along all her limbs, making her throb all over. Her muscles weakened and Kane had to catch her before she buckled.

He smiled at her. "That felt like a good one, Abby. Ye'd better lie down before ye fall."

Abby was unable to speak; she could hardly catch her breath, let alone utter a word.

Kane laid her on the floor and braced himself above her before entering her again, sliding in long and deep. Abby lay back, her heart pounding, limbs shaking, and watched him as he moved within her. His eyes were closed, his dark hair damp with sweat; he frowned as he made one final thrust, deep, deep within and then rolled off her, panting.

They lay next to each other, breathing loudly, sweaty limbs touching. Abby realised with a shock that she hadn't said a word to him since she had arrived. She propped herself up on one elbow so she could look at him.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello to thee." Kane reached up, brushed some loose hairs from her face, kissed her softly.

"I wasn't expecting that."

"Ye weren't?" Kane laughed. "It's all I've been thinking about this last sevenday."

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Ah. Just as well we laid together first, then. My cock might not be up to it after ye've finished with me."

Abby laughed. "Perhaps you are right."

Kane sat up, pulled his kilt down to cover his manhood, which was softer now, and still, resting against his thigh. Abby pulled the ties of her bodice back together enough to make herself look more decent.

"Let's go into the fresh air." Kane stood up and held his hand out to Abby to help her stand. He led her to the grass verge outside the shelter and sat down with his legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. Abby sat next to him and looked out over the view. The land was still green even though the harvest had been taken in and winter was coming. From up here she couldn't see where Scotland ended and England began. Everything looked so peaceful it was hard to imagine how bitterly the land was fought over, how many people had died on the moors and in the fields in the name of their Laird, or their country.

Abby played with the grass next to her, plucking blades out, letting them fly in the breeze. It was difficult to find her anger again now that she was next to him, her body still aching from his touch. She had to, though, had to stand up to him otherwise this relationship, or whatever it was, was no better than her marriage. "I was so worried last week. I didn't know what you were going to do."

"I was careful, Abby. The risks were small."

"Were they? Alasdair brought me before him, asked me if I knew who was responsible. He knows it was you. He thinks you are targeting him, that you will hurt me again. That's why he has banished me from the loch."

"That was never my intention." Kane looked sheepish. It was endearing, but Abby was determined to stay firm.

"No, but you were so bent on hurting him, you didn't listen to me, didn't care what I wanted. That makes you little better than him, Kane."

Kane looked wounded at her remark. "I am nothing like him."

"I said that it was history to me. I told you I had learned to live with it, that I didn't want you to do anything to Alasdair, didn't need that from you, but you did it anyway. Having no regard for me, treating me as though I am not there, and do not matter, is what he does. How is what you did different?"

"Ye are right, and I am sorry. My anger blinded me. I could think of nothing else."

"I know your intentions were good, but you acted to make you feel better, not me."

Kane nodded. "It won't happen again, unless he hurts thee, then I cannot be held back, Abby."

"He won't hurt me again."

"He'd better not."

Kane took her hand in his and they lay quietly for a while, looking up at the sky. Abby couldn't stop thinking about Kane and Alasdair, imagining what would happen if her lover and her husband met again. There wasn't a single scenario she could think of that didn't end with disaster.

"Did you see Alasdair, when you were at the house?"

"Aye. It was all I could do to keep from strangling him. The thought of him touching thee makes my blood cold."

"He doesn't very often. He has his mistresses in the village. He says they're better than me."

"Better than thee! That's not possible."

"You are being kind, but he is right. I did not know then what I know now."

"Abby. Ye are a wonderful lover, and a quick study. It seems to me it is him who doesn't know what he's doing, or doesn't care."

"Perhaps."

"'Tis true. What about yer first husband, Jacob? How were things with him?"

"We were young, and we didn't know what we were doing."

"Ye must have done something right, ye got with Clarke."

Abby laughed. "That's true. We didn't get a lot of practice in, though. He was away on his father's business a lot, and after Clarke was born, well, he became ill, and that side of our life wasn't important."

"Aye, I'm sorry about that. He was a good man."

"You knew him? I thought you were from Dumfries. That's a long way from here."

"I knew of him. My father did business with the Griffin clan sometimes, over in Edinburgh. I didn't take much notice at the time, but my father had respect for him, wished I was more like him."

"You were not a dutiful son?"

Kane laughed. "Not at all! I only wanted to have fun. As second son I had no responsibilities, and I was determined to keep it that way."

Abby studied him. It was not difficult to see the young man he had been. His hair was windswept and messy; he looked like he had just been roused from bed. His eyes were bright, and smiling. He always looked amused, as though life was an entertainment, a mummer's play put on for him.

"Do ye like what ye see?"

Abby looked away, embarrassed. "Kane!"

"I am serious. Tell me."

"I do. Very much."

"What do ye like?"

"You want me to tell you what I like about you?"

"Aye."

Abby took a deep breath. Everything with this man was a challenge, pushing at the edges of her, breaking through the walls she had constructed over the years.

"I like your eyes. They are kind, and warm, and they smile a lot. They make me smile."

"Hmm. Kind eyes. That is all?" His voice was teasing, eyes twinkling with amusement, a lop-sided grin on his face.

"Stop it!"

"What? I am not doing anything."

"You are! I can't do this if you are looking at me like that."

"Then I will not look at thee. I will close my eyes." He lay back on the grass, put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. "Pray continue."

She shifted so that she was closer to him, away from the edge of the cliff. "I like your nose. It is not quite straight, which gives it a charm." She reached out to touch his face, her fingers tracing the line of his nose as she spoke.

Kane sighed. "Keep going."

"Your beard. It suits you, makes you look wiser than you really are."

Kane opened one eye, looked at her. Abby smiled. "I like how it feels against my skin," she continued, stroking his beard, "rough, like the heather. It brings me to life." She leaned over and kissed his cheek, the hairs of his beard pricking her lips like tiny pine needles.

"And then there is your mouth." She kissed his lips, a brief caress, and he stretched towards her, wanting more, but she pulled away. "It is cheeky, and knows the right words to say."

"But kissable," Kane murmured.

"Very," replied Abby, kissing him again, a feather kiss, lighter than air.

Then she undid the ties on his shirt, slowly, as he had done to her, and pushed the shirt up to expose his chest. His sword wound was healing, leaving a small scar no longer than her finger, still a livid purple and hard to the touch. She traced it with gentle fingers, before kissing it.

"Your chest is your strength. It bears your wounds, protects your heart." She kissed his nipples, sucking them. Kane brought a hand round to caress the back of her head, fingers entangling in her hair. He groaned, pressing her harder to him.

"Abby. I can't take any more. Come and kiss me."

Abby worked her way up to his mouth, kissing the edges of it, sucking on his lips, not letting his tongue in yet no matter how hard he tried.

"Ye are killing me," he said, his hands busy behind her, undoing the buttons on her dress, peeling it down until she was naked against him. They lay side by side, arms wrapped around each other. Kane still had his kilt on, but she could feel his hardness between her legs. Then he flipped her onto her back so suddenly she gasped. She thought he was going to enter her his need seemed so great, but he began kissing her, as she had done him, slowly, working his way down her body, hands followed by mouth, and teeth, nipping and sucking at her skin. She thought he would stop at her belly but he went lower, until his mouth was dangerously close to her sex. She put her hand on his head to stop him.

"Kane? What are you doing?"

He was kissing the mound above her entrance. "I'm tasting thee."

"What? No. Not down there. You can't."

Abby was mortified. Surely he wasn't going to kiss her there, between her legs, not in such a private, personal part of her? But he was. She tried to keep her legs closed, but he parted them, gently but firmly, and before she could protest, his tongue raked up the length of her and it felt as though her heart stopped beating. His tongue was warm, and wet, and firm, and his beard rubbed against her soft flesh, bringing a fire to it. He licked and sucked the hard nub at the top of her opening, putting pressure on it and Abby's body convulsed, a pulse of pleasure running through her. This was nothing like when he touched her with his fingers. There was something about the warmth of his breath on her, the length of his tongue, its roughness, that was making her fall apart from within.

"I love the way ye smell, the way ye taste," said Kane, his voice vibrating against her skin. "Like the ocean breeze, carrying a hint of the sea."

A surge of desire flowed through Abby at his words. She had thought it must be unclean to kiss someone there but Kane was licking and sucking at her as though he were at a banquet of the finest delicacies, where each one required savouring in case it was never tasted again. She lay back and gave herself over to the feelings he was building up inside her. She was white hot, and the more he concentrated his tongue on one part of her, the hotter she became, and this time the heat was radiating throughout her body. When the feeling came over her again, it was like being hit by a burning arrow, intense, and spreading its fire rapidly through her nerves, into every muscle. Her body jerked beneath Kane's tongue, and he lapped at her gently as she came back to herself.

"What did you do?" she asked breathlessly.

He didn't answer, just smiled and kissed her, and she could smell herself on his breath, taste herself on his lips, earth and sea. What this man was doing to her, the things he was showing her were overwhelming at times. Abby could barely think clearly. Kane entered her while she was still throbbing and pulsing.

"Oh, Abby," he said.

"What is it?"

"When ye squeeze me like this, it is like heaven."

"What do you mean?"

"Squeeze your muscles, inside, as I move forward in thee."

Abby tried to do what he asked, making herself tight around his cock. Kane groaned loudly in her ear. "That's it. Ye are so good, Abby, ye feel so good." He finished quickly, after just a few thrusts inside her.

Afterwards they lay next to each other, limbs entwined, breaths slowing as they relaxed.

"We are not very careful, Abby, are we?" said Kane. "We get carried away. We should take more care."

Abby turned to look at him. "I don't understand what you mean."

"I mean, we don't take precaution, against thee getting with child. I should withdraw, before I come, but I can't. I have to be inside thee when it happens."

"There cannot be a baby. I told you that. There would have been one by now."

"It is possible, though. Ye had Clarke."

"Yes, but she took a while to take, and her birth was difficult. The medic said there might not be another, and there hasn't been."

"Well, I am sorry about that, for thee, but also glad, because we will be doing this many more times, I am sure."

Abby smiled. She sat up so she could put her dress back on, as the day was getting long, and colder. There was something on her belly, where Kane had been kissing her earlier.

"You left a mark on me." She pointed to a bruise that was deep red and purple at the edges.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Abby. I didn't realise I had done that," said Kane, running his fingers over the mark, but he didn't look sorry to Abby. He looked pleased with himself, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "He doesn't look at thee there, does he?"

Abby shook her head. "He barely lifts my skirts."

Kane nodded, as though satisfied. "It will fade."

Abby touched the mark. It wasn't sore, just stood out bright against her pale skin. She had no doubt Kane had made it on purpose, to claim her, she supposed, mark her as his, as though every fibre of her being didn't already belong to him. Abby couldn't decide if his action was arrogant, or showed a lack of confidence in her feelings for him. Did he not understand how much of her he had, how deeply she burned for him? He looked so happy, sitting next to her, that she didn't take the conversation any further, but she was intrigued by it, more than angry. It must bother Kane that she went back to her husband after their meetings, on the rare occasions he was home at least, so he had marked his territory, like the wolf he was. Abby smiled. It was endearing, in its own way.

"What are ye smiling at?"

Abby stretched and yawned. "Nothing, are you hungry? I'm starving."

"I'm always hungry for thee."

Abby groaned at his terrible joke. "I mean for food. I brought some pies."

"The blaeberry again?"

"No, these are game pies. Pheasant in the main."

"I haven't had meat in a long time, other than what ye gave me when I was injured."

"You do look thinner than when we first met. Are you not eating properly? I can bring you supplies."

"Enough for all my men?"

"Well, no."

"Then I cannae take it. I cannae eat well while they do not. I will eat what ye bring for the day, but nothing more."

"I understand." Abby went into the cave to get her pouch and Kane followed. She admired his strength of character, although she thought it misguided. If his men had the opportunity to eat more she suspected they would, but Kane was a leader, and one who led by example.

She searched in her pouch for the food she had brought. As she did so, an object fell out and rolled across the floor. Kane picked it up.

"What is this?"

Abby looked at the object. It was a piece of rolled-up parchment. "I am not certain. Oh." She realised what it was just as Kane started to unroll it. "Don't look at it."

"Why not? Have ye been writing a ballad about me?"

"No, it is not a ballad."

"Oh, Abby." Kane had unrolled the paper and was looking at it. It was the portrait of her that the woodcutter had made some weeks previously. It must have sat in her pouch all that time, forgotten. "It is a good likeness."

"Thank you."

"He has caught the flare of yer nose, and yer cheekbones, sharp as the mountain tops. So much strength in yer face, Abby, and yet yer eyes are soft, and yer mouth."

Kane traced the contours of her face on the portrait as he described her. "Ye look sad."

"I was embarrassed."

Kane looked up at her. "Why? Ye are beautiful."

Abby shrugged.

"May I keep this?" continued Kane.

"If you wish."

"I do." He rolled the portrait up and put it in his own pouch. "Now I can see thee whenever I like."

Abby reached up to kiss him, a gentle kiss of thanks but Kane held her tight to him.

"Don't start again, Kane," she said with a laugh.

"Why not?" he said, peppering her face with delicate kisses. "And when are ye going to start calling me Marcus?"

"Marcus?"

"Aye, it's my name."

"I know, but nobody calls you Marcus."

"Aye. And nobody calls thee Abby. They are our names, just for us."

When he kissed her again, she kissed him back, and they sank to the floor, all thoughts of food instantly forgotten.


	9. A Tangled Web

**Kelso, Roxburghshire**

It was market day in Kelso, and Kane was in the town with Murphy to get supplies for their camp. The two men moved in the shadows of the buildings and stalls, for the items they needed to purchase were not to be found on general sale, and they could not show their faces publicly, being wanted men. In fact, there was a poster nailed to the fence they were standing against, with Kane's face staring out from it, a bounty of one hundred shillings available for his capture.

"I dinnae see why it is always YER face that is on these posters," grumbled Murphy.

"Because I am the handsome one," replied Kane. "Who'd want to see this face everywhere they looked?" He squeezed Murphy's cheeks as he said, this, shaking the boy's head a little.

"Gerroff!" Murphy slapped Kane's hand away.

"Let us split up to make our purchases. Ye know what ye need to get?"

Murphy nodded.

"Good. Here's some coin. Keep out of the ale house."

"Yes, Sir!" said Murphy, making a mock salute at Kane.

Kane grabbed his arm. "I'm serious. We cannae afford to bail ye out of gaol this time. If ye're caught, ye're on yer own."

"Nice to see ye have my back."

"I do, but ye make it hard sometimes."

"I'll be good."

"See that ye are."

Murphy slunk away, keeping tight to the walls of the castle as he made his way to the other side of town, where he had business near the abbey. Kane watched until he was out of sight, and then turned to go and conduct his own business, glancing at the Wanted poster as he went past. He was tempted to take it down, to give to Abby, because the artist had captured a good likeness of him, and she might like to look on him whenever she wanted, as he could look on her. It was a bad idea, though, for many reasons. Seeing the bounty that was on his head might upset her, and if the poster were found, there would be no reasonable explanation for her possession of it. He tore it down anyway, put it in his pouch. He didn't want anyone seeing the poster today while he was in town.

He was heading to his first port of call when there was a commotion on the other side of the market. His first thought was that Murphy had done something stupid but it was not that. It was the arrival of a carriage and four horses, with a retinue of groomsmen and servants following behind. Kane recognised the carriage instantly, as it had only been a few weeks since he had robbed its occupants. He dropped into the shadows as Alasdair Griffin alighted from the carriage, followed by his man, Sinclair. Sinclair turned and offered his hand to someone inside, and Kane's heart skipped a beat as Abby descended from the carriage. She was a distance away, across the market, but Kane could see her smiling at Sinclair as he helped her. Blake was with them. He led the horses and carriage to the field beyond the abbey to eat and be watered.

Kane slipped into the stable, hiding behind its wall, watching as Alasdair and Abby walked through the market. Abby was wearing a dress that was even lovelier than the one he had first seen her in. It was a vivid blue, with pale blue sleeves. The bodice had no laces, only buttons, and was tight-fitting, pushing her breasts up so the swell of them was visible over the top. Kane's cock pulsed; she had never looked more beautiful. It was wasted on her husband; Alasdair didn't look at her once, didn't take her arm, show her something interesting on the market stalls. He had no interest in her at all, that was plain to see. He walked ahead of her, deep in conversation with Sinclair, and Abby lagged further behind as she stopped to chat with the vendors, examine their wares. Kane willed her to look in his direction, but she was too engrossed in the market and all it had to offer.

Finally, Alasdair stopped walking as he encountered some people he knew, overfed, greasy-looking men the same as him. Fellow Lairds, probably, allies of the Griffin clan. Abby caught them up and Alasdair said something to Sinclair, who turned and gave Abby what looked to Kane like coins, and she moved away, heading towards the side of the market where he was hiding. His heart beat faster; he couldn't let an opportunity to speak to her pass him by, but it was dangerous. If they were seen, that would be the end of them both. He knew he was going to do it, though, if he could. He had to.

Hiding in the stable proved to be a wise choice, because Abby couldn't resist a horse, and she moved closer, attracted by a beautiful-looking bay pony that even Kane admired for its strength and glossy coat.

"Hello, my lovely," said Abby, as she entered the stable, offering her hand for the horse to inspect.

Kane whispered her name as loudly as he dared. "Abby!"

She turned, startled, looking for the source of the voice. Her eyes alighted on him, her mouth dropping open in surprise. She looked around, checking that no one was nearby.

"What are you doing here?"

"Come in here before someone sees you." Kane grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty stall.

"Marcus, I can't! My husband is outside."

"He is far enough away, and we can see anyone approach through this window. See."

He led her to the side of the stable, where a small window was set in the wall. They could see out across the market, but it would not be easy to see in unless someone peered directly through the window. The stable was set back at right angles to the castle wall, which shaded it, making the inside dark.

"What are you doing in Kelso?"

"Getting supplies. It is wonderful to see thee." He kissed her, and she hesitated before kissing him back, running her fingers through his hair, and sighing into his mouth.

"I must go."

"What? Abby, no. Not yet." Kane pressed her to him, letting her feel his desire. He kissed the swell of her breasts, pulled the fabric down a little, exposing her nipple, which he took in his mouth and sucked.

"What are you doing? We can't do this. I will soon be missed."

"Then we must be quick."

"No!"

"Yes. Turn around."

She swallowed visibly. He could see her inner conflict as her thoughts flashed across her face. She turned slowly, so that her back was to him.

"Put yer hands on the wall."

She leant forward, bracing herself against the stone of the stable wall. "What are you going to do?"

"Fuck thee."

He lifted her skirts to expose her arse, and rubbed his cock along the length of her. She was wet already. He pushed the tip of his cock into her, and then withdrew it again, pushed it in, brought it out. Abby pressed back against him, chasing his length.

"Marcus!"

"Ye want this." He slid all the way in, relishing the tightness of her, the way she gripped him, and pushed her forwards against the wall.

She moaned as he started thrusting within her. "Yes. I want you. All the time."

"Stroke yerself."

He watched as she gathered more of her skirts up, putting her hand beneath, on her sex.

"Oh!"

"Yer husband is there, Abby. Just a few feet away. Can ye see him?"

"Yes." Her breaths were coming short already. Kane thrust harder, faster.

"He is standing there, Abby, and he has no idea that we are here, that my cock is inside thee."

She groaned, rubbing herself faster. Kane put his hand atop hers, laced his fingers between hers so that they were both touching her, stroking her.

"He can't make ye come as I do."

"No. Oh, what are you doing to me?"

"I'm loving thee, Abby."

She came then, hard, bucking against their joined hands. Kane followed right after, emptying in her. It was the most intense climax he had felt in a long time, deep and satisfying.

Abby turned to face him, breathless and flushed.

"I don't understand what happens to me when I'm with you. I lose myself."

"Ye're not lost, Abby. Ye are found."

She took a deep, shaky breath. "I have to go out there, now. Be as though nothing has happened. I can't do this."

Kane felt ashamed when he saw the worry in her face. He had been selfish again, filled with his own need. He pulled her into his arms, kissed her hair.

"Ye can do it. Ye are strong. He doesn't deserve thee, ye know that."

She hugged him tight, then withdrew, sighing deeply. "I know. I will do it."

She started to walk out of the stall, and then stopped, turned to him, looking embarrassed again.

"What is it?"

"Do you have a cloth or something. I need to clean myself."

"Oh, of course." Kane took his kerchief out of his pouch. "Let me."

She stood as he wiped her with the cloth, cleaning the residue of their bodies from her. When he stood up her eyes were dark, her brow furrowed.

"Don't be ashamed, Abby."

"It is difficult, this is new to me. I don't wish to lie, and cheat."

"That's because ye are a good person, but it is the only choice."

She nodded, kissed his cheek.

"I love you, Marcus."

Then she turned and walked out of the stable. Kane stood rooted to the spot, the damp imprint of her kiss on his cheek, her words piercing his soul.

Abby left the stable, her heart racing. Why had she said that? What must he be thinking? They'd known each other less than two months and she was telling him she loved him. She didn't even know if it was true; she lost all sense when he was with her. She paused at one of the stalls, pretending to browse the cloths, trying to regain her focus when all she could think about was what they had just done. Letting Marcus take her like that while her husband was so close had been thrilling she couldn't deny it. Frightening, guilt-inducing, but thrilling nevertheless. She was warming up again now as she thought about it. Since meeting him, she was in a perpetual state of heat, like the deer during the rut, desiring him constantly. When he had told her she would want to touch herself when they were apart she had not believed him, but she knew the truth of it now. She had to bring herself under control otherwise she was bound to betray them to Alasdair. She checked her skirts as best she could, smoothed them, hoped she didn't look any different than she had a few moments before, and then returned to where Sinclair and Alasdair were still talking to a group of men.

Sinclair turned towards her. "Did ye find some cloth?"

Abby had completely forgotten that she was supposed to have been looking for material for Alasdair's trip to Edinburgh the following day.

"There was nothing suitable."

Sinclair nodded, turned away again. Abby looked towards the stable. She could see the tiny window they had been looking out of. A stab of heat ran through her at the memory of being pressed against the wall. There was no sign of Marcus.

What Abby didn't know, was that someone had seen her and Kane together. Someone who was now following her at a discrete distance, all his tracking skills coming into use as he kept hidden, waiting for the right opportunity to make his move.

It happened in the grounds of the castle. Abby had gone there to look at the old gravestones whilst Alasdair held a meeting in the room above the ale house. She was examining an old stone, tracing the carving on it with her fingers when she felt the presence of someone behind her. She turned, alarmed, and came face to face with the young reiver who had stolen her necklace at the raid, Murphy.

"Lady Abigail," said Murphy. "It has been a while."

Abby looked around, checking that he had no accomplices, hoping there would be someone else around to help.

"There's no one else here. It's just thee, and me."

"What do you want?"

Murphy came right up to her, ran his fingers over the swell of her breasts, teasing down to the hemline.

"Maybe I want some of what Kane is having."

Abby flushed hot and then cold. He knew! How? "I don't know what you mean."

Murphy shook his head, tutting. "Come now, My Lady. Ye know very well what I mean. Ye were in the stable with him not long ago."

Abby couldn't speak her mouth was so dry, her throat constricted.

"What were ye doing in there with the Grey Wolf while yer husband was standing outside?"

Abby swallowed. "I was looking at the horses."

Murphy laughed. "I bet ye were. Matches up well doesn't he, our Kane? Everyone knows that."

"You are a crude and disgusting young man."

"Ye are not the first to say so."

Murphy pressed himself into Abby, trying to push her skirts up and Abby tried to push his hands back down. "No!"

"Why not, ye lifted em quick enough for Kane. What's he got that I don't have?"

"He's a hundred times the man you are, and he would never force himself on a woman."

Murphy snorted. "Ye know about his brother's wife, don't ye?"

"That wasn't him."

Murphy stopped trying to pull her skirts up, and stepped back. Abby straightened up, smoothed her dress down.

"He told ye about that, did he?

"Yes, I know all about it, so why don't you go and crawl back under your rock."

Murphy looked at her, a slight frown on his face. "This is starting to make sense now. That is why ye are fucking him, to get back at yer husband for what he did to her."

"Did to who?"

"Kane's brother's wife."

Abby's heart sank into her stomach. She could hardly process what Murphy was saying. The boy must have seen the shock and confusion on her face because he laughed and clapped his hands. "Oh! He never told ye that part, did he? Yer husband, the great Lord Alasdair Griffin, raped that poor woman half to death, and Kane took the blame for it. Yer husband ruined his life, and you, my dear Lady Abigail, are his revenge."

"That is not true." Abby wanted to believe that Murphy was making this all up to get back at her for rejecting him, but deep down she knew she was looking for false hope.

"Oh, it is true. Very true. Ye know, I find I don't want thee after all. Ye're damaged goods."

He turned and walked away, leaving Abby to sink to the ground, her legs no longer capable of holding her up. Murphy's words spun in her head, making her feel dizzy. "You are his revenge. You are his revenge." It couldn't be, could it? What she and Kane had together was real. All the things he said to her, the way he was with her could not be made up. Then she thought back to the stable, how he had waited for her, made her look at her husband, talked to her about him while he was inside her. He had taken great enjoyment at that, exploding within her at the end; she had felt the force of it, heard his deep sigh of satisfaction.

Abby had heard the servants talk about heartbreak, sighing over various young men they were stepping out with. Abby had thought it silly girl talk, but sitting here in the graveyard she felt it, a great rendering within, ripping her apart so that everything inside her was exposed. It physically hurt, making it hard to breathe. Tears came, followed by great sobs that somehow forced their way out of the tight space her throat had become. They were so big and heavy they left no room for breath, and she felt faint from lack of air. She was hardly aware of strong arms around her, pulling her into a broad chest.

She sobbed his name. "Kane?"

"No, Mistress. It is me, Blake."

"Oh, Blake." Abby was disappointed at first, and then glad. She hugged Blake tightly, crying into his jacket.

"Mistress, what has happened? I saw one of the reivers leaving here and I come in and find ye like this. Has he hurt thee?"

He has killed me, thought Abby, but she wasn't going to tell Blake what had happened.

"No. He tried, but I fought him off."

"Ye are brave."

Abby shook her head. "Not really. You need to find Kane, Blake. He was here not long ago."

"He is not here now, Mistress."

"He must be. Please go and find him."

"I'm sorry, but he has gone. He was spotted by one of the Sheriff's men and he left."

"Then you must find him, tell him to meet me at the loch tomorrow."

"Mistress, ye cannae go tae the loch. It is forbidden."

"It must be the loch, Blake. Just tell him, please. Meet me at noon."

Blake nodded and helped Abby to rise. He walked with her back to the carriage, where she sat, waiting for her husband to return, not knowing how she was going to be able to look at him ever again.

 **Arkholm Tower**

Abby didn't sleep the entire night, didn't even get into bed, just sat in her chair by the fire, going over her relationship with Kane from beginning to end. It was clear to her now how Kane had organised everything, from the first raid when he claimed not to know she would be there, to their first meeting alone, when he was conveniently waiting for her at the loch. Had he planned it all? He had made enquiries about her, knew the loch was her favourite place, he admitted that. He knew how to charm her, what were the right things to say. Putting her in danger during the raid and then pretending to save her were actions guaranteed to make her grateful, intrigued by him, and it had worked. She had thought of little else ever since that day.

He knew her husband, knew what he was capable of, had done before he met her, so he must also have been able to guess what her life was like, what was missing. It was easy for him to become the man her husband wasn't. Warm where he was cold, gentle where he was rough, caring where he was disinterested. It only took a few words, being interested in her, telling her she had a beautiful mind and he wanted to get to know it, for her to fall for him. And she had fallen so hard. Earlier that day she had told him she loved him, then tried to talk herself out of the feeling, but she was lying to herself. She _was_ in love with him, and that was why his betrayal, if that's what it turned out to be, was so painful.

But then, when he took her in his arms, when he told her he'd missed her, and he laid her down and worshipped her body, taught her how to love, how to feel, how could that be a lie? The way he looked at her, with what she had thought was love in his eyes. He had ridden all that way, wounded, just to see her. She couldn't believe he was capable of being so calculating. She knew men could lay with women without being in love with them, her husband did it, Kane had done it, but this was a different level to that. Did he blame her? Was it easy for him to pretend to have these feelings because he thought she was at fault somehow? She was married to Alasdair at the time; if she had been good enough for him, he wouldn't have had to look elsewhere, the rape would never have happened and Kane's life would not have been ruined. It was her fault; she could see how he could think that. And if it were true, then the worst was yet to come, for what good is taking your revenge if the person who wronged you doesn't know about it? He would tell Alasdair all about them sooner or later, and then her life would well and truly be over, as if it wasn't already.

After a sleepless night spent going over and over every moment with Kane, every word, every touch, every deed, Abby was bleary-eyed as she prepared Juno for their journey to the loch. Alasdair had left for Edinburgh only a short while ago, taking Sinclair and Blake with him, and she now had to hurry if she was to make it to their meeting place by noon. She had cycled through many emotions last night, and now she was left with a cold, white anger. Whatever his motives, one thing was certain. Kane had known it was her husband all along, and he had kept that from her. She had given him plenty of opportunities to tell her; when she had asked him about it, when she told him it was Alasdair who had inflicted her scars. Why hadn't he told her then? She could only think it was because she was part of his plan. She had probably reinforced his hatred of Alasdair, given his scheme legitimacy if he needed it. She didn't know what she was going to say to him; only knew that she had to confront him, however painful it was going to be.

When she arrived at the loch, Kane was already there, pacing as he had been doing the day they had their first kiss. Abby began to regret choosing the loch as the meeting place for this conversation; there were too many painful memories. He looked up when he saw her, came over to her his face full of concern.

"Abby! Are ye alright? Are ye hurt?"

Abby remained seated on Juno. She didn't want to dismount and give Kane an opportunity to touch her. Seeing his face, his worry, was weakening her resolve enough as it was. She had to remember that it was all an act.

"I am not hurt."

"I received a garbled message from Blake. He said he found thee crying, that ye needed me. What has happened? Is it yer husband? Have we been found out?"

"We have been found out alright." Abby was surprised at how calm she was at that moment. Her voice was cold, clinical, and she could see confusion spread across Kane's face, replacing the worry. He was expecting her to run into his arms, be comforted by him, and she had not moved from her horse.

"How? Who has found us out?"

"Your man, Murphy."

"Murphy?" Kane looked shocked.

"Yes. He saw us together yesterday, in Kelso. He accosted me in the graveyard."

"Did he hurt thee?" Kane moved towards her, and Abby urged Juno to step back.

"In a manner of speaking."

"Abby, I don't like this. Something is not right. Why don't ye get down off yer horse and talk to me."

"I am fine where I am. He likes to talk, doesn't he, Murphy?"

Kane shook his head. He looked fearful now; his hands were clenched into fists as though he was holding something back, keeping something in. Had he realised yet the game was up? Abby couldn't tell.

"He had a lot to say about you. About you and my husband. It seems you know each other a lot better than you ever let on."

There it was, the realisation, spreading over his face like the glow of a candle as it warmed up a room.

Kane's voice was cold, though, when he spoke. "What did he say?"

Abby had to pause before she could speak again, swallow down the sick feeling that was rising within her. She wanted to remain calm but having to say the words out loud was bringing all the feelings back from yesterday, the shock, the sadness, the despair.

"It was Alasdair, who raped your brother's wife. You knew it was him."

Kane nodded, and something about his confirmation of the facts made it real for Abby. Up until now she had kept a small flame of hope burning deep within, that it was all a lie, a vengeance of his own from Murphy. Now there could be no denial. It was all true.

A cry escaped her, a treacherous betrayer of the depth of her hurt which she had not wanted Kane to know.

"Oh, Abby. I am sorry."

"You are sorry! You knew my husband was a rapist, that he had ruined your life and you didn't tell me. You seduced me, laid with me, all the while knowing what he had done!" Her voice was raised now, higher-pitched.

"I did not want ye to know those things, Abby. What good would it have done?"

"I asked you directly about it, and you said to trust you, and I did!"

"Ye were right to. I was protecting thee. I have not betrayed thee."

"You have, Kane. Can you not see that?"

Kane looked perplexed, kept shaking his head. "I did not mean to."

Abby looked at him. He seemed bemused, sad, fearful at the same time. Was it really an act? If it was then he was good at it, because she wanted to believe him, wanted so desperately for it to be a mistake. Yes, he had known, but he had wanted to shield her from it, out of love for her. Could that be the truth, or wishful thinking on her part? There was one way to find out.

"There was one other thing Murphy said."

"What was that?" Kane asked quietly.

"That I am your revenge on my husband."

"What? Abby, no."

"Yes. You planned our relationship, seduced me into it, so you could tell him everything we have done together. When were you planning on telling him, Kane? When I was deeply in love with you? When your betrayal would hurt me the most?"

Kane was running his fingers through his hair, pulling on it. "Has Murphy told ye this? I have not planned anything."

"Did you plan our first meeting here at the loch?"

"Ye know I did. I told ye why."

"In the stable, when he was outside. You enjoyed laying with me while he was so close, wanted me to look at him. You talked about him while you were inside me."

"Aye, but."

"Were you thinking of him then? Was taking me then a revenge on him?" Abby studied Kane's face, looking for signs of his true feelings. His mouth dropped open slightly as though he was going to speak, but nothing came out. That hesitation told her everything she needed to know.

"Oh!"

"Abby!"

"I AM your revenge! He took your brother's wife so you have taken his. How could I be so stupid?"

"Abby, no!" Kane looked desperate, pleading, but it was too late, Abby wasn't listening, didn't want to hear another word coming out of his lying mouth.

"I would beg you not to tell my husband, but you will do what you will do. Whatever happens, we won't see each other again."

"Abby, ye have got this all wrong."

Abby turned Juno, pointed her in the direction of the hill.

"I don't think so." She urged the horse onwards, beginning the climb up the slope. She could hear Kane cursing as he jumped on his horse, and the sound of hooves as he followed her. She squeezed Juno with her calves, encouraging her to move faster. Kane was behind her, shouting her name. His nag was more agile on these narrow paths than her thoroughbred was, and he was catching her. Soon, they were on the top of the hill, and Juno had long legs, was bred for galloping. Abby loosened the reins, gave Juno her head, and the horse flew across the moor. Abby could no longer hear Kane's horse behind and she turned to look. He was a long way back, and as she watched he slowed his horse, stopping near the pool where Abby and Blake had watered their horses just a few short weeks before. He watched her as she raced away; she could just make out his dark hair flying in the breeze, and then he was gone, disappearing over the horizon as she crested the hill and began the descent to Arkholm. Abby slowed Juno to a canter, leant forward so that her face was buried in the horse's mane, and sobbed.

By the time she arrived back at the tower her tears had dried. There was no one to greet her. Raven had been back at the Hundred camp for two days, showing her face so Murphy wouldn't get suspicious. Abby laughed at the pointlessness of that subterfuge now. Was Raven a part of Kane's plan? Did she know? The thought was too much for Abby to bear, so she pushed it down, buried it deep. Blake and Sinclair had left for Edinburgh with Alasdair that morning. There was only Harper, and the girl appeared as Abby was brushing Juno down.

"I am glad ye are back safe, Mistress. I was worried."

"You were right to be, Harper. I'm afraid I encountered reivers on my trip. I only just managed to get away. We need to go to Duns today. It is not safe here anymore."

"Mistress, are ye sure? That is a big trip."

"It is not too far, and yes. We must leave at once. Pack enough clothes for a few days. I will send on for the rest once we are settled. Oh, and send a messenger to Duns so the servants are prepared for our arrival."

"Yes, Mistress." Harper left to attend to Abby's instructions and Abby was left alone with Juno in the stable.

"I will miss you," she said to the horse. "You are my constant, the only one who has never betrayed me."

She kissed the horse, rubbed its nose, and then headed up to her chamber. She emptied her pouch on the bed so she could sort through its contents, take only what she needed. The tree Kane had carved fell out, making Abby's heart skip a beat. She picked it up, turned it over in her hand. He had given her this on the day they had lain together for the first time. How easy she had been. Giving herself to him on the strength of kind words and a carved tree. He had given her this as a reminder. She put it back in her pouch. It would serve as a reminder that was for certain, a reminder never to trust anyone ever again.


	10. Separation

**The Hundred Camp, the Cheviot Hills**

Kane rode back to camp as fast as his nag could take him. He had been tempted to follow Abby to Arkholm Tower but that would have given them away to everyone. As far as he knew, only Murphy had found them out. Kane was struggling to make sense of what had happened. How did Murphy know about Alasdair and what he had done? The only person Kane had ever talked about it with was Abby and obviously he hadn't told her the whole truth. It was possible the boy had made a guess, wanting to hurt Abby or get back at Kane for some reason and had inadvertently hit on the truth. However he had found out, the result was the same. Abby was devastated, their relationship was in ruins. They might have survived if Murphy had only told Abby about Alasdair; she would have been angry with Kane for a while, but he was sure he could have convinced her that his reasons not to tell her were pure. No. Murphy couldn't resist twisting the knife, telling Abby that she was Kane's revenge, and she had believed it. Kane couldn't understand what he had done to make her think he was capable of that. He hadn't helped himself by hesitating when she asked if the sex in the stable had been revenge. There was an element of truth in that, and he couldn't lie to her. Seeing Alasdair a few feet away while he was taking his wife had been deeply satisfying but it was just that one moment, because the man was there. He had never considered Abby as revenge for her husband; in fact, he tried not to think of her having anything to do with that ogre at all. He had to make her see that, somehow, but first, he was going to kill Murphy.

When he arrived at the camp he jumped from his horse, not bothering to tether him, and strode through the camp shouting Murphy's name. Raven came out of Kane's dwelling, smiling in greeting and then frowning when she saw the look on Kane's face.

"Kane? What's wrong?"

"Have ye seen Murphy?"

"No."

"Murphy! Show yer face ye coward!"

Kane circled the courtyard, banging on the doors and walls of all the dwellings. Raven ran after him.

"Kane, ye're scaring me. What is going on?"

"I'm going to kill Murphy, that's what's going on. Oh, here he is."

Murphy had come out of the mess and was standing, arms folded, smiling at Kane. "Having a bad day, Kane?"

Kane crossed to him in two long strides and punched him in the face. Murphy went down clutching his nose. Kane grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him back up so he could hit him again.

"What the hell, Kane?" Raven tried to pull him off Murphy but Kane shrugged her off. Murphy scrambled to his feet and used Kane's momentary distraction to barrel his head into Kane's stomach, knocking the wind out of him, sending him sprawling to the floor. Murphy knelt on Kane's chest, squeezing the last of the air out of him, and moved to hit him in the face. Kane dodged to his left and Murphy only managed a glancing blow to Kane's cheek. Kane's next punch was strong enough to knock Murphy off him and for a few seconds both men lay on their backs, gasping for air.

"Ye've seen yer girlfriend, I take it?" said Murphy between gasps.

"Why did ye do it?"

"Why not? It was fun. Her face!" Murphy laughed, and Kane managed to roll over and straddle him, pinning him to the ground.

"I'm going to fucking kill thee." He started hitting Murphy again, splitting his nose and his lips, blood pouring out down the boy's face, over Kane's knuckles. Murphy was coughing, choking as blood ran down his throat.

A crowd had gathered by now but Kane was hardly aware of them. Raven was pleading with him but her voice was muffled, as though it was coming from far away. Kane only had eyes and ears for Murphy. Suddenly, two sets of strong arms were pulling him back, dragging him to his feet. He looked down at a bloodied and battered Murphy, and felt no remorse. The boy had it coming to him.

"You are under arrest, Kane." Jaha's voice made Kane look around. He was being held by two of the strongest men in the clan; a crowd was watching him and Jaha was in front of them, arms folded, a cold, dark look on his face. "Take him away." The men led Kane to the stockade, an open-roofed pen where they sometimes kept animals and occasionally criminals. The men shackled his wrists and fastened leg irons round his ankles which they attached to a long chain already fixed to the ground. He could walk around but there was no chance of escaping. He sat down in the corner of the pen, and waited, thinking about Abby, and how he had to see her, convince her that she was wrong. Maybe Raven would help him, and Blake. As soon as he got out of here, he would get a message to Blake, persuade him to meet him, and bring Abby. The boy wouldn't like deceiving her, but it was the only way.

The shadows lengthened, and the skies darkened. Fat drops of rain began to fall, but still no one came for Kane. The raindrops became a shower and then a downpour and Kane was soaked through in no time. The dirt turned to mud and he was forced to stand. Night fell and he knew Jaha was going to leave him there. This was part of his punishment, and he had to accept it. The temperatures dropped once the sun had gone and Kane shivered in the cold air, his wet clothes clinging to him. No moon or stars were visible. It was one of the longest and darkest nights of Kane's life, second only to the night he had found his sister-in-law bleeding and terrified in her bedchamber. Everything stemmed from the decisions he had made then, but he didn't regret them. He had been a wastrel, a selfish, pleasure-seeking idiot, but when the time came to stand up and be counted he had done so, surprising himself. Maybe if he hadn't had such a playboy reputation, his father wouldn't have believed him so easily, but it was for the best. Was then, was now. And it had led to Abby.

When she had told him she loved him, time had stopped. No woman had ever said that to Kane, apart from a few girls when he was young, but that was frivolous, practice love. He could tell Abby hadn't known she was going to say it until she did, and that had made it cut him deeper, because it was so genuine, so heartfelt. Not that there was ever anything calculating about Abby; she was the most honest, open person he had met. Trusting, and caring, and capable of deep love. Kane had never thought himself worthy of someone like her, and it astonished him, the depth of her trust in him, and now that trust was gone. He may never get it back, never get her back, but he had to try. Even if she never forgave him, if he had to live the rest of his life without her, she deserved to know the truth. He hoped she would at least give him the chance to tell her.

It was noon the next day before the gate to the stockade opened and Kane was taken before Jaha, filthy and shivering, still fettered, his wrists and ankles chafing from the heavy iron. Murphy was already in the room, his face purple and blue, lips and nose swollen. He glared at Kane and Kane returned the look. The men who brought him chained him to a hook in the wall, his hands behind his back.

"You stand accused of serious crimes, Kane. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"It is a private matter."

"I have told you before there are no private matters in the Hundred. I expect you to tell me."

Kane remained quiet so Murphy of course had to fill the silence.

"He's fucking a Laird's wife." Murphy's words were thick and only partly formed as he struggled to open his mouth wide enough to let them out.

Jaha frowned. "He's always fucking the Lairds' wives."

"This one is different. It's serious. She loves him; she clearly mustn't get a lot at home if Kane is a catch to her."

Kane strained towards Murphy, his chains rattling as they held him back, cutting into his wrists.

"Shut up!"

"Who is it?" asked Jaha.

"It is Lord Alasdair Griffin's wife, the Lady Abigail."

"Lord Griffin, eh?" Jaha stroked his chin. "This could be extremely useful."

"I am not using her to help thee," muttered Kane through clenched teeth.

"I fail to see what choice you have," replied Jaha. "Sneaking around, running unauthorised raids, which I see now had a benefit to you, fighting your clan fellows. These are crimes punishable by death, Kane, you know that." He paused to let the threat sink in.

"But that will not be your fate today. No. This relationship with Lady Griffin will be of no use to us if you are dead."

Kane opened his mouth to protest but Jaha cut him off.

"I would think wisely if I were you before you speak. If you are dead, who will defend the Lady when her husband finds out what she has done? I'm certain he would pay dearly to prevent news such as that from spreading round the country."

"We don't need Kane for this, Sir," said Murphy. "We can blackmail the Lady ourselves, or Lord Alasdair."

Jaha sighed. "You don't know much about women, do you, son? Do you think once her beloved Kane here is dead she's going to help us? If she has any sense she'll leave her husband before he finds out, or kill herself. Either way, we get nothing."

"Ye don't know the whole story, Sir. She might be begging ye to kill Kane after what I told her."

Kane pulled on his chains, desperate to get to Murphy and shut him up, but they were fixed hard to the wall.

"I swear, Murphy, if ye say one more word."

"What? What are ye going to do, Kane? Ye're an idiot. I said ye were getting shoddy and this is the result. Ye've let yer cock rule yer head, and yer heart."

"Shut up both of you! What is the true story, here?"

"Alasdair Griffin is the one who raped Kane's brother's wife. He's the one he took the fall for." Murphy turned to Kane. "Why did ye do that?"

Kane ignored him.

"Is this true, Kane?"

Kane nodded. "Aye." His shoulders slumped; he felt defeated. Nothing he could say or do was going to stop Jaha from getting what he wanted. His best chance was to stay alive and work out how to stop whatever Jaha decided to do.

"This changes everything," said Jaha. "I need to think how best we can exploit this situation. In the meantime, I am sentencing you to a week in the stockade, Murphy."

Murphy let out a cry of surprise. "I am the injured party here!"

Jaha walked over to him, leaned in close. "You are far from innocent. You told Lady Griffin about her husband with malice and forethought and set this in motion. I hold you equally responsible with Kane for what happened to you."

He nodded to the guards. "Take him to the stockade." They took Murphy out of the room; the boy dragged his feet along the ground so they lifted him between them and the last Kane saw of him he was kicking and struggling in mid-air. Kane was left alone with Jaha.

"I am disappointed in you, Kane. This is not the behaviour of a second-in-command."

"No, Sir. I am sorry for breaking the rules, that was never my intention, but Murphy deserved it."

"I don't want to hear your excuses. I don't want to see or hear from you so I am sending you to France."

Kane was shocked. "What? Sir, no!"

"There is no discussion. You can take your boy, Raven, with you. I had a productive visit there recently and now that business needs concluding. You can do that for me. I expect you to be gone a sevenday if not more. The boat leaves today."

Jaha unlocked Kane's chains and left him alone in the room. Kane sank to the floor, rubbing his bleeding wrists. Seven days! If Abby only heard silence from him, she would assume she was right, that she was his revenge. If Raven was with him he had no way of getting a message to Abby. Blake was unreachable. Perhaps he could send a written note to Arkholm, coded somehow, but who would deliver it, and what if it was intercepted? It was too risky. He put his head in his hands. Tears didn't come easily to Kane, but he was exhausted, and they spilled out of him. He and Abby were over, just as they were coming into full bloom. The thought was so painful he realised what Abby had already discovered. He loved her, but it was too late. She was lost to him.

 **Duns House, Berwickshire**

It was a crisp autumn day. The sky was a pale blue, streaked with wispy clouds, and there was a frost on the ground, making the grass crunch under Abby's feet. She and Harper were walking through the grounds of Duns House, the Griffin clan's summer residence. It was Abby's first day outside in almost a week. She had come down with a sickness the day after she had arrived at the house, vomiting regularly and running a low fever. Harper thought it was something she had eaten, because the cook hadn't been prepared for their arrival and had given them cold meats for supper. "Who knows how long they had been kept, Mistress," Harper had said while Abby was being sick for the third time in an hour. The sickness had subsided after a few days, and the fever disappeared with it. Abby didn't think it was food. She was heartsick. All she had thought about was Kane and his betrayal, day and night, and it had made her ill.

"Why don't we sit for a moment, Mistress? Ye dinnae want tae overdo it." Harper led Abby to a bench beneath the bare branches of a cherry tree, and they sat down. The grounds of the park were spread out before them, mostly laid to pasture with scattered oak and hawthorn trees. Red deer grazed in the distance, the bellowing of the stags echoing through the air. They were coming to the end of the rut, and some of the younger stags were getting brave, challenging the old dominant ones to fights, antlers locking, shoving their huge heavy bodies against each other. The hinds stood around, chewing the grass, having no part to play in the contest, no say in the outcome. Whichever stag won the fight would mate with them, and that would be that. The hinds didn't seem to care much about their fate but Abby cared for them. The one who threw his weight around most would win, as he was the strongest, but strength wasn't always the best quality to have. Sometimes, guile, spirit and intelligence were the most attractive qualities, like the young stag she was watching now. He was circling the edge of the harem, watching the older stags, waiting for them to get engaged in a fight before making his move. He didn't have to wait long before he got his chance, mating with a hind who had strayed too close to the edge. The deed was done and he was away before the dominant stag knew what was happening.

Abby sighed. She was no different to those hinds, caught in a battle between two men, her fate in their hands. She had been waiting every day for Alasdair to come charging home, bursting with rage, furious about Kane and what she had done with him. She imagined Kane's face as he told him how he had lain with her, taken her in every way, made her do things, say things that no respectable wife should do with a man who was not her husband. What joy he would take in finally getting his revenge on the man who had ruined his life. In many ways she understood him, knew what it was like to be helpless, to have your life controlled by someone else, to have your choices taken away.

Waiting for your life to be over was the cruellest punishment. If Kane wanted revenge on her as well for not being the wife she should have been to Alasdair then he was successful. Even after she had removed herself from Arkholm to Duns, a part of her had expected him to find her, come after her, explain that it was all a mistake, that he loved her, but he had not come. Day after day she had waited, making herself sick with the worry, until she had finally realised that he was not coming to release her from this torment, he was prolonging it, making his revenge all the sweeter. Tears fell again as they had so often this last week.

"Mistress, what is the matter?"

Abby wiped her face. "It is nothing."

"Oh, Mistress. I dinnae think it is nothing. Something is making you so sad, I know it is."

Harper put her hand on Abby's and the simple, kind gesture made something break inside her and she wept. Harper put her arm around Abby, brought her close so that her head rested on Harper's shoulder.

"Is it the person ye meet at the loch?"

Abby sat up, looked at Harper. "What do you mean?"

"I don't mean ye any harm, Mistress. I don't know anything really, just that ye ride out there a lot, and ye always seem so happy when ye return. I thought maybe there was someone making thee smile."

A great sob rose up from Abby's chest at Harper's words. How did this girl see through her so easily, right into her soul? Abby wanted to trust her, needed someone to talk to desperately, but she had already been so betrayed, there was no trust left to give. There was also nothing to lose, she realised, because Alasdair would find out soon, and it wouldn't matter if Harper got there first or Kane. Maybe it would be better if Harper told him first, robbed Kane of his moment of glory.

All these thoughts rushed through her head, but in the end, Abby started talking to Harper because she had to. There was no one else, and if she kept everything inside her she was going to lose her mind.

"There was someone, but he is gone."

"I'm sorry, Mistress. He made thee happy?"

"Yes, but it was all a lie."

"Why was it a lie? What did he do?"

Abby sighed. "It's a complicated story, but it has to do with the Master and something that happened a long time ago."

Harper shook her head. "But what has that to do with thee and this man?"

"He…" Abby found it hard to find the right words to say to Harper without opening herself up completely. "He made me love him, and think that he loved me, but it was to get back at the Master for what he did many years ago."

"Oh." She frowned. "Why would he do that? Why now?"

That was a good question. Abby could understand what Kane had done, and why he had done it, but why had he waited more than five years to get his revenge? He had always known Alasdair had a wife; he could have put this plan into action years ago.

"I don't know why now. Perhaps he wanted the Master to think he had got away with it."

"Seems a lot of trouble to go to."

"Yes." Abby played with a loose thread on her skirt, picking at it, wrapping it round her finger until blood engorged the tip and the rest of her finger went white, then unwrapping it and doing it again.

Harper put her hand on Abby's, stilling her. "Mistress."

"I've been a fool, Harper."

"Nae. It is not foolish to love."

"It is when that love is not returned."

"Are ye certain of that?"

She was not certain, not deep down, because she couldn't stop seeing his face as it was when he looked at her, the way his eyes lit up when she smiled at him, how he watched her when he didn't think she could see him. He used every excuse to touch her, hold her hand, caress her face, and not just to seduce her into laying with him. Surely no one was that good a liar? But why had he not come? Where was Raven? They must be in it together, or else Raven would have come to console Abby, or brought a message from Kane. Their silence was the most damning evidence she had.

"He would have come for me, Harper, but he hasn't."

"Mistress, I dinnae know who he is or what exactly he has done but there could be any reason why he hasn't come for thee. Maybe he's sick, as ye have been."

Abby shook her head. "In that case, he would have sent Raven."

"Raven? The groomsman? I liked him."

"So did I."

Harper stroked Abby's hand. "Well, I am sorry, Mistress. What are ye going to do if the Master comes and knows all?"

"I don't know." And she didn't. She wasn't going to confess to Alasdair, wouldn't give him that satisfaction. She couldn't flee. There was nowhere to hide, no new life to seek. She had no coin, no connections, no means to do anything. Her father wouldn't protect her, or shelter her. She would have to face Alasdair. She had betrayed him, and must accept the consequences.

"Can ye get a message to this man, or to Raven? Find out if there's a reason he has not come. At least then ye will know."

"I don't see how. I don't know where their camp is. The only person who knows about this, er, situation, is Blake, and he's with Alasdair in Edinburgh."

"Perhaps I can help get a message to Blake?"

"Oh, Harper, I wish you could, but I don't even know if Blake is trustworthy. He's Kane's man, he's a spy for him. I thought it was to help him plan raids, but perhaps it was to learn about me, to help Kane understand how to seduce me."

"Kane the reiver? The Grey Wolf?" Harper was open-mouthed with shock and Abby had to go back over what she had just said to realise she had let slip his name, not that it mattered. Alasdair would know who it was soon enough.

"Yes, Kane the reiver."

Harper smiled.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing, Mistress. It's just. The man is a legend."

"Yes, well. Don't look at me like that." Harper was struggling to hide a smirk and Abby knew why, knew exactly what kind of reputation Kane had.

"I'm sorry."

"It was not like with the other women." Abby felt the need to justify the relationship somehow. "It was more than that. It was not a casual affair, not to me at least."

"I never thought that. When I say he's a legend, I don't just mean as ye are thinking. He's revered amongst the poor, Mistress. He raids their masters to give people coin and food to survive, helps them find shelter if they have none. He is known to be a good man, a man to trust. Are ye sure he has done what ye think?"

Abby was trying to process Harper's words. She had not known this about Kane, or had she? Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered Lord Douglas repeating a ballad at their banquet. Something about him robbing the rich to pay the poor, but she had thought it just a tale, and Alasdair had dismissed it outright as something Kane had made up. Here was Harper, telling her the same tale, and the girl had no reason to lie or exaggerate the truth. No wonder Kane inspired loyalty from Blake and all the other young men in houses around the Borders. But even good men did bad things, hadn't he told her that? There are no good men he had said. Perhaps he was warning her, even back then, when they had hardly begun.

"Harper, I don't know what to think. My mind is like a whirlpool in the sea, spinning round and round. The rest of me is trapped in it and I don't know which way is up or how to escape."

"You must look for calmer waters, Mistress. I will make thee a potion from the lemon balm, that will help."

Abby squeezed the girl's hand. "Thank you, Harper." She didn't think a potion would go far to ease her worries. She needed something to happen, one way or another. Kane or Alasdair. One of them was going to come to her, and she had no idea which it would be.


	11. New Beginnings

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Duns House, Berwickshire

Harper had drawn a bath, which was a rare treat, and Abby was relaxing in it, steam rising from the water and her skin into the cold air of the room. The bath was close to the fire but there was still a chill in the air. November had arrived, and with it cold mornings, crisp days and long, dark nights. Since their conversation in the garden two days ago, Harper had fussed over Abby non-stop, plying her with herbal potions, massaging soothing oils into her skin, making sure the cook fed her as much fresh food as was available. It was all designed to lift Abby's mood, and it was working, in its own way. She had resigned herself to her fate, realised that worrying herself sick over it would not change anything, and with that acceptance had come a strange contentment. What would be, would be.

Harper poured more hot water into the bath, and Abby laid back, resting her head against the wooden side of the tub, and closed her eyes. She listened to the girl's quiet breaths as she stirred the water, mixing the hot with the cool.

"Mistress?"

"Hmmm?"

"We have had word from Edinburgh."

Abby opened her eyes, looked at Harper.

"Oh yes?"

"Aye. The Master is coming home the day after tomorrow."

Abby sat up, her heart beating faster, her skin growing cold. "What exactly have you heard?"

"Just that. The cook got word to expect him, that is all."

"Nothing more?"

"No. Try not to worry. If he knew anything, he would not delay."

That thought was not as comforting to Abby as Harper probably intended it to be. Alasdair was coming home, and even if he didn't know about Kane, Abby was still faced with the prospect of having to look at him, talk to him, breathe the same air as him, knowing what he had done. What if he wanted to lay with her? How could she refuse? She felt sick again, bile rising in her throat and she swallowed it down. She didn't want Harper to see her like this again; the girl knew enough as it was.

"I should like to get out now, Harper."

Harper held out her hand and Abby took it, stepping out of the tub onto the cold wooden floor. Harper picked up a blanket, and wrapped Abby in it.

"I will fetch your nightdress."

Abby nodded, pulling the blanket more tightly around her as Harper returned with the simple white slip Abby liked to sleep in. She sat passively as the maid dried her and dressed her, too caught up in thoughts of what would happen in the next few days to be of help to the girl.

"Are you alright, Mistress? Do you need anything else?"

"Yes. Thank you, Harper. I'll be fine."

"Good night, Mistress."

The maid shut the door behind her as she left and Abby went to sit at her dressing table. She undid her braid, let her hair fall loose. She was so absorbed in brushing it, she didn't sense that she wasn't alone in the room until a hand touched her shoulder. She jumped up out of her seat and spun around. Kane was standing in front of her as large as life. Abby was stunned. It felt as though time stood still; her heart stopped mid-beat, breath mid-rise, brain mid-thought. Only her sight remained working, taking in the shape of him, his beard scruffier than ever, his hair stuck out in every direction. His face was dirty and sweat-streaked and he had a faded bruise on his cheek. He seemed thinner than when she had last seen him, his kilt hanging low off his hips, his shirt tucked in, emphasising his slim frame. He was as handsome as ever, though, brown eyes still smiling, even though his brow was furrowed, his lips thin and pursed.

"Kane?"

"Aye, it is me."

"I don't understand. What are you doing here? Someone will see you." She looked around, fearful, as though guards would suddenly appear out of the gloom as well.

"No one is near, Abby. Have no fear."

"How did you get in here? No, don't tell me. Your spies helped you." She couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"Don't be like that, Abby. I had to see thee. There was no other way."

"I have no wish to see you." Now that the longed-for moment was here, when he was standing before her, worry and fear etched on his face, she felt only anger, and disappointment. Whatever he wanted to say, it was too late. She was done with him.

Kane took a step closer and Abby moved backwards but bumped into her dresser. She could not get any further away from him.

"Ye did not give me a chance to explain, when last we met."

"What is there to explain? You used me. You seduced me to get revenge on my husband, and I fell for it. I was so stupid." Tears sprung to her eyes. She didn't want Kane to see them, but they spilled down her cheeks, betraying her to him.

He put his hand out towards her. She didn't think he would dare to touch her, but he did. His thumb brushed a tear away, then he slipped his hand round the back of her head and pulled her in towards him until her face was buried in his chest. Both his arms wrapped around her and there was nothing else she could do except cry into his shirt, silently, unwilling to let him hear the depth of her pain.

He kissed the top of her head. "Abby. Ye were never my revenge. I wanted ye from the moment I saw thee, when ye told me to mind my own business. Yer husband had nothing to do with it."

She pulled away from him so that she could look up at him, look into his eyes. They were full of concern.

"You knew who he was, though. Knew what he had done."

"Aye. But that was not the motive behind the raid. It was part of our plan. I was told to do it. I won't deny I took some satisfaction from humiliating him."

"And I was not part of the plan?"

"I didn't know ye would be there. But ye were, and ye captivated me."

Abby wanted to believe him so badly. He seemed so sincere, his eyes pleading for her understanding, her belief, her trust, but she had given that too easily before.

"You do not mean to betray me?"

Kane's smile was painful, sad.

"Abby. Ye are all I've ever longed for."

Abby couldn't speak; his words ran through her body like a wildfire, setting her aflame.

Kane brushed strands of her hair away from her face, where they were sticking to the tracks of her tears.

"Please believe me, Abby."

"Why didn't you come? I wanted to believe you. Deep in my heart I felt it, but you didn't come."

"I wanted to, but I was sent away, to France."

"France? Why?"

"As punishment. When ye left, I knew I couldn't catch thee, couldn't risk going to Arkholm, so I went back to camp. I was so angry, Abby. Not with thee, with Murphy. I beat him up and was sent to France because of it. Raven was with me. We returned today, and I rode straight here from Carlisle."

Abby felt weak, her legs no longer capable of supporting her. She sank into her chair by the dressing table. She couldn't look at Kane. Harper had been right, there had been a reason. She felt so many emotions at once it was overwhelming. Kane knelt on the floor in front of her, took her hands in his.

"Abby. I have asked ye to trust me before, and ye did. I know that trust is gone now, and I don't blame thee. Of all the people involved in this mess, ye are the only one who is pure and true. Will ye at least hear me out, let me tell the whole story?"

Abby nodded, and he kissed her hand, before getting up to pull two chairs next to each other, in front of the fire. He led her to one, and then put a couple of logs on the fire before settling into the other. He stared at the flames for a while, and Abby waited, letting him come to the tale in his own way, his own time.

"I told ye before that my father did business with the Griffin family. At first it was with Jacob, but when Alasdair took over, my father didn't like him, and left any dealings to James, my brother. I wasn't involved with any of it, never met Jacob nor Alasdair. I was too busy enjoying myself as ye know."

He glanced at her, and she nodded, to show she was listening, that she understood.

"James held a gathering at our house, about six years ago now, to celebrate a deal he had made with Alasdair, something he said was going to make our family wealthy. I didn't pay attention to it at the time. I turned up to the gathering, of course, any excuse for a party, to meet women, and I ended up having a row with my father about my ways. He couldn't understand why I didn't have a wife by then, children."

"Why didn't you? If you don't mind me asking."

"No, it is fine. Ye can ask anything ye want. I want ye to." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I did want those things, well a wife at least. I just never met the right woman. All the girls when I was young seemed frivolous, and then when I was older they were all married women who only wanted me for one thing. They didn't want to talk, didn't make me laugh. James had no choice, he had to marry as eldest son, but I had more freedom, and I used it."

Abby thought back to what he had said earlier. "Ye are all I've ever longed for." A shiver ran through her. Was she the right woman for him? Out of all the women he'd met? She found that hard to believe. He must have met more interesting people than her.

Kane was still talking and she dragged her attention back to him. "The night of the gathering, after the row with my father I went to look for Alice, my brother's wife. She was the only one I liked in my family and she tolerated me." Kane gave a small laugh, looked at Abby, and then back to the fire again. "I found her in her bedchamber. She was crying and when I went to her I saw there was blood on her skirts, on the covers. I didn't know what it was, what had caused it."

Abby let out a cry as she pictured the scene. Kane turned to her, took her hands.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Abby. 'Tis painful, I know. I can stop if ye like."

Abby shook her head. "No. You must go on. I want to know the truth. I have to know it."

Kane continued, but he didn't let go of her hands. He sat facing her, looking into her eyes as he spoke.

"She didn't want to talk at first, but I managed to coax her into telling me. She said Lord Griffin had attacked her, forced himself on her, in a bad way, a painful way." He squeezed Abby's hands. Tears were sliding down both their faces. "I wanted to find him, kill him, but she begged me not to. I wasn't going to listen, like I didn't with thee when I saw yer scars, but she pleaded with me. She said Lord Griffin had threatened to kill her if she accused him, told her that James was involved in a deal to defraud the King and Alasdair knew all about it. He would ruin our family if she named him as her attacker. I didn't know what to think, didn't have time to consider my options because just then James and my father came in, and saw me sitting with her. I jumped up out of shock and they looked me up and down, horror on their faces and I saw I was covered in her blood. Alice was hysterical by now. James said, "what have you done?" and I looked at Alice and she looked at me, pleading with her eyes for me not to tell. I didn't speak, couldn't speak, and everyone took that as a sign of guilt. I didn't want anyone else to be falsely accused, so I confessed to it. Nobody wanted what had happened to become common knowledge so they kept it quiet but clearly, I couldn't stay in the family home and so my father banished me. That is the truth of it all."

He took a deep breath when he finished, because he had spoken in a rush, all the words tumbling out like a waterfall.

Abby was stunned. She had known the bare bones of the tale from what Murphy had told her, but hearing it from Kane, his voice cracking with raw emotion as though he were living that night again, she finally knew the depth of the betrayal, and it was not Kane's, it was Alasdair's. Kane was truly innocent, as he had told her. He had made a great sacrifice, allowing his family to despise him, banish him, when it was all to save them, and they would never know it. He had told her that he had a good reason and she had trusted that, as he asked, until she let Murphy into her head, allowed him to poison her mind. Why had she done that? Why had she believed him over Kane when the only thing Kane had ever done was care for her, protect her.

"I am sorry I didn't tell thee sooner, Abby."

She reached across, put her hands on his head, brought him towards her so that their foreheads were touching. "How could you tell me that my husband was responsible for something as terrible as that? I am sorry I didn't believe you. I'm sorry for everything." She kissed his head. He took her hands in his, brought them to his lips.

"I don't blame thee. It is natural to think that I would want revenge. I do, but not through thee. Ye are the only good thing to come out of this."

"I know, I know. I always knew. It was just that I convinced myself, and when you didn't come, I thought I was proved right."

"Oh, Abby. What fools we have been."

"Yes. We have."

He kissed her, softly at first, and then with more passion, his fingers tangling in her hair, lips sucking on hers, hands pressing her to him.

"I've missed thee so," he said, when they broke apart.

"And I have missed you." She took his hand. "Come and lie down, rest with me."

"I would, Abby, but I am filthy."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does. What will yer maid think in the morning?"

"Well, there is water in the bath, although it will be cold by now."

"I don't mind the cold."

"Then let me help you."

Kane slipped off his boots and stood still as Abby untucked his shirt from his kilt, holding his arms up as she pulled it over his head. She went to unfasten his kilt, fumbling with the straps and buckles. Just when she thought she had the kilt undone there was another strap on the inside. She laughed. "I thought my dress was complicated."

"It has to be strong, Abby. We don't want it falling down at gatherings with nice old ladies around."

"That would never do."

"No."

"Imagine their shock."

"Their husbands would be jealous."

"Do you think so?"

"Aye, don't thee?"

The kilt at last came undone and she unwrapped the material from around him. He was a magnificent man, tall and lean, broad chest, slim hips, a line of dark hairs on his toned belly leading her eye down to his cock, which was full already, long and heavy.

Abby sighed. "Perhaps." She was tempted to reach out and touch it, as he clearly wanted her to do, but if she did that there would be no going back and he was truly filthy from head to toe.

"I don't think they would be jealous of the way you smell, though. Get in the bath."

Kane stepped into the tub and slid beneath the water. He sighed. "It is cool, but wonderful." He ducked his head under, washing the dirt from his face, rubbing his hair in the water to wet it thoroughly. When he surfaced, Abby had a cloth and soap ready. She held them out to Kane. "No. I'd like thee to do it," he said.

He lay back against the tub and closed his eyes as Abby lifted his arm out of the water, ran the soapy cloth over it. The scar from the sword wound he got in Newcastle was long, stretching diagonally across his forearm from elbow to wrist. It had healed smoothly, a jagged purple line the only reminder now. Her touch was light as she cleaned it.

"It doesn't hurt ye know," Kane murmured.

"It has healed well."

"Aye, thanks to thee. The medic said ye did a wonderful job."

Abby beamed, pleased that she had helped him.

"I wonder where we'd be, if you hadn't turned up that day?"

"We would still have found each other."

"Yes."

She leaned in further, washed his other arm. His breath was warm on the side of her face, tickling her. His lips were so close she wondered if he would kiss her there, but his eyes remained shut and he didn't move. She sat back and washed his chest, then ran the cloth lower, over his stomach, to his groin. He was still hard, the cold water doing nothing to dampen his desire. She stroked the length of him with the cloth, rubbing it lightly up and down his cock, and Kane let out a shuddering sigh.

"Oh. Mmmm."

"You like that?"

"Aye. 'Tis a pity you cannae fit in here with me."

Abby smiled, moving down to the bottom of the tub to wash his legs. Kane sat up, reached down to stay her hand.

"I think I'm clean enough now. Come here."

She moved back to the head of the tub and he brought her head towards his for a kiss. His hand strayed to her breast, squeezing it through the thin material of her slip. Desire for him was coursing through Abby.

"I think you should get out now," she said.

"Aye, I think I should." He stepped out of the tub, water dripping from his body onto the wooden floor, pooling at his feet. Abby wrapped the blanket round him, rubbed most of the moisture from his skin. He led her to the bed, and they climbed on top. Kane tried to lay her on her back but Abby flipped them over so it was he who was on his back and she who was straddling his thighs. She pulled her nightdress over her head, enjoying the sight of Kane's eyes roaming over her body, his cock twitching as she stretched up, before discarding the slip on the floor

"You still need to rest," she said. "Let me do the work."

He was thinner than last time she had seen him naked like this, and she could see his heart beating beneath his chest. She kissed it, feeling the thrum of it under her lips. His nipples were standing out hard, from the cold, or desire she didn't know which, and she bent her head to suck each one in turn, pinching them as he did to her, increasing the pressure until he was moaning. She went lower, kissing her way down the trail of dark hairs to where his cock was lying hard and long against his belly. She had never touched this part of him with her lips before, wasn't sure if that was something people did, but he had kissed her sex, and it had been wonderful. She pressed her lips to his cock and it sprang up. Kane jumped.

"Oh, Abby."

"Is this alright?"

"Aye. Do it again."

So she trailed her lips down his cock, planting small kisses, letting her tongue slip out to lick him, taste him.

Kane groaned. "Oh, that is good, so good."

Remembering what he had done to her, she gave one long lick of him, from bottom to top, and he gripped the covers, moaning. There was wetness spilling out of a slit in the head of his cock and she tasted it, warm and salty. She held him firmly at the base with one hand, and sucked at the head, letting it slide in and out of her mouth, and was rewarded with the longest groan she had ever heard coming from Kane.

"Abby! My love, my love! Ye have to stop before it is too late. I want to be inside thee."

She let his cock fall from her mouth so she could answer him.

"We have all night."

"Then use yer hand to finish me, as I showed thee. Please, I am close."

She made a fist and massaged his cock with it, up and down the length. He thrust into her hand, matching her rhythm, and as his breaths grew faster and shorter she increased her speed, until he let out a guttural moan that she feared would wake the whole house, and his essence spurted out over her hand, warm and sticky. Kane lay back with his hands above his head, panting. Abby picked up the cloth and wiped them both clean with it.

She lay on the bed next to him, her head on his chest. He reached down to stroke her hair.

"Was that good?" She asked.

"It was. I have never… Abby, no one has ever done that to me before. No one has ever taken me in their mouth."

Abby was surprised. "No one? None of the women you have been with?"

She could hear the ruffle of his hair against the pillow as Kane shook his head. "No. They were not interested in my pleasure, only their own."

"Perhaps it is not something people do?"

Kane laughed. "Oh, I suspect there is nothing we can do that people haven't done. We are not the first to be like this with each other, even if it feels that way."

"You are the first for me."

"And thee for me." He hugged her to him. "Can I ask thee something?"

"Yes, of course."

"What was it like? What did I taste like?"

Abby thought for a moment, unsure how to put such a thing into words. It was more than just how he tasted, it was how he smelled, the heaviness of him filling her mouth, the smoothness of the head, the thick veins, rough against her tongue. She could not say those things aloud to him.

"Ye taste like the earth when the sea rushes in over the plains. Salt-sprayed."

"We are the same, then."

"Similar, yes," replied Abby, remembering the way she had tasted on his lips.

"Maybe I should familiarise myself, so I don't forget."

He slipped out from beneath her arm and she rolled onto her back, letting her legs fall open so he could position himself between them. How quickly she got over her fears when she was with this man. Kane lifted her legs up so they rested on his shoulders, and used his thumbs to spread her lips apart before putting his mouth on her, tasting every part of her with his tongue. He slipped a finger in her, and then another, stroking her on the inside and licking her on the outside and Abby had to swallow a cry it was so good. She lay back, her arm across her mouth to stop her from groaning too loud, and thought of nothing but Marcus and what he was doing to her. When she came, it was a release, not just of pleasure, but of all the tension that had built up within her over the last sevenday. She wanted to weep with the relief, but she held it back. There had been enough tears that night.

Kane crawled back up the bed to lie next to her and she turned so that she was on her side, facing him. His smile was soft, eyes dark, one side of his mouth lifted slightly as though he wasn't certain of something. She caressed his cheek.

"What is the matter?"

"Nothing."

"There is something, Marcus. No more secrets, no more half-truths. Tell me."

"I don't want to spoil this moment."

"Oh, now you are making me fearful."

He took her hand, held it against his face. "I do not mean to."

"Then just say it. Please, Marcus."

He sighed. "Why were ye so quick to believe that I was false with thee? What did I do to make ye think I was capable of that? I don't blame thee, I just don't understand it."

"Oh." Abby had expected this question to arise at some point, because she was asking it of herself all the time, but it still came as a shock. She didn't want to answer, because it meant admitting things to him she did not want to admit to herself, but she had just told him not to keep secrets.

"Ye do not have to answer."

"No. I do. I don't know for certain, but I have always wondered why you wanted me, out of all the women you could have. I thought perhaps you had seen more in me than there is, and one day you would find out that I was a fraud. When Murphy said I was your revenge it made sense, everything seemed to fall into place, at the time at least."

"Oh, Abby. Do ye remember when we first met?"

"Of course."

"I saw thee sitting in yer carriage, in that pretty blue dress, and ye were a feast for the eyes, I'll admit that, but there was more. Ye said it was none of my business whether ye looked at yerself, and I knew I was supposed to threaten thee and steal from thee but all I wanted to do was laugh. Then in the rushes, I was already admiring of yer defiance, and ye went and dirtied my knees and said what ye said and I think I was yers from that moment. Ye were all I thought about after that."

"I was intriguing to you, then, something new?"

"At first, perhaps, it was that, but then I got to know ye better. Ye have a great spirit, Abby, a quick mind, a trusting, loving nature. I've wanted a woman like thee all my life, someone who is my equal, and there ye were. And ye are not my equal, ye are better than me in every way. He is not deserving of thee, and sometimes I think neither am I."

Abby looked away, moved by his words, and embarrassed.

"Ye cannot take a compliment, can ye?"

"They have not been given to me often."

"No." Kane shook his head. "That will change."

Abby smiled, but there was something else she wanted to unburden herself of, and find an answer from him.

"There was another reason though, why I didn't trust you. When I asked you if what we did in the stable was revenge, you didn't answer, and that confirmed it for me. My heart broke, and I couldn't hear anything else you said."

Kane nodded, a slight flush appearing across his forehead. "I knew it was that. I cursed myself as soon as it happened, but it was too late to take it back, to tell the truth."

"What is the truth?"

"That ye were right. There was revenge in my mind when we were in the stable. Being with thee while he was stood outside, oh, it was sweet, Abby, I can't deny it. I thought ye felt it too, ye were hot so quick."

Abby swallowed. There was truth to what he was saying about her as well. They had the same feelings, and she should admit that to him, but he was still explaining.

"But it was just the moment. I was taken over by the sight of him, and I was nearly ruined again because of it. Oh!"

Abby shut him up with a kiss, a long, lingering kiss that set her heart racing.

"I felt it too. I did. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Kane stroked her cheek. "It is in the past now. We focus on what comes next. Trust takes time."

Abby shook her head. "I don't need time. I do trust you."

"Ye are all I've ever longed for. Never forget that."

Abby nodded and Kane pulled her into his arms, and she rested her head on his chest, the rhythm of his breathing lulling her to a much-needed sleep.

When Abby woke it was still dark and she could hear someone else breathing, feel the weight of them in the bed next to her. It was disorientating at first, until an arm draped over her, and a familiar voice whispered to her.

"Are ye awake?"

It was Marcus, of course. Marcus in her bed, lying behind her, his breath tickling her ear, his arm heavy atop her. It was strange to wake up to another person in bed with her, especially him. Strange, but wonderful. She burrowed under the furs some more, pressed back against him to gain warmth from his body.

"Not quite. Are you?"

"Aye. Very much so."

He shifted his weight, put his arm under the covers, across her belly, and pulled her further back into him. She could feel how awake he was.

"So I see."

"Hmmm."

He rolled his hips lazily against her, his cock sliding between her cheeks, rubbing against her sex. Abby pulled her legs up in front of her and he slotted his behind so that they fit neatly together. She could feel his hand between them, stroking his cock, before pushing it into her so slowly she was aware of every part he touched coming to life. They both sighed. He lay quietly at first, not moving, just holding her tight to him, then he began that lazy roll of his hips again and she followed him, pushing back as he thrust forward, matching his rhythm. It was like the slow dance at the end of a gathering, relaxed, languid, like they had all the time in the world.

Neither of them spoke. Abby's senses were heightened, every sound they made seeming so loud in the quiet, the steady creak of the bed, the slap of their bodies coming together, their slow, heavy breaths, which frosted the cool air. Marcus brought his hand round in front of her, grasping her breast, squeezing it, thumbing her nipple. Abby let her hand drift to her sex, and she touched herself slowly, making lazy circles in her flesh. They continued like that, building the speed, the intensity, the pleasure, until she could tell Marcus was getting close to his release from the change in his breathing, his soft moans becoming groans in her ear. She pushed back harder, forcing him as deep within her as she could and he followed her lead, thrusting harder, faster. The heat was building in Abby's sex, her nerves tingling, pleasure starting to pulse within her.

"Marcus," was all she had to say, and he was coming inside her as her own pleasure took her over.

Afterwards they lay together without moving, Marcus growing soft within her but both of them reluctant to lose the contact.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," he said.

"As do I, but Harper will be here soon. She cannot find you here."

"I know." Kane moved Abby's hair to one side and kissed the back of her neck. "But it is so hard to leave."

"There is tonight. No one is due back until the next day. You can stay with me again."

"I will, but we must talk, Abby. Where do we go from here? What do we do about yer husband?"

"Yes, we must talk." Abby's heart was beating fast. She was unprepared for such a conversation; only the day before she had thought their relationship over, and before that she had deliberately not looked towards the future. She wasn't sure there was anything to be done about her husband, so what future could she and Marcus have? There was no way out she could see.

Kane withdrew from her, slipped out of the bed and padded over to the fire where his clothes lay in a heap on the floor. He dressed quickly, then laid a fire in the grate and lit it. He came around to Abby's side of the bed.

"Harper will wonder how I did that." said Abby.

Kane laughed. "Aye, well maybe it's time ye learned a few things, just in case."

"Just in case what?"

"Ye leave him, and come be with me."

"Marcus?" Abby was shocked at his response. Be with him? She had never considered that a possibility, although she knew they could not go on forever as they were.

"We'll talk tonight. I will think of thee all day." He bent down and kissed her, and then she watched as he slipped out of the door and out of sight.


	12. A Plan Is Hatched

CHAPTER TWELVE

After dismissing Harper early, Abby sat in her bedchamber waiting for Marcus to return. In the light of the morning, evidence of his night with her had been all over the room. The tracks of his boots were visible on the wooden floor where he had left the dust of his journey behind, and the bathwater was dirtier than when Abby had got out of it. The bed sheets were rumpled and creased, and Abby could smell Marcus all over them, and on the fur cover and the pillow. After he had left she had moved over to his side, burying her face in the bedclothes so that his scent surrounded her. The sheet was still warm from his body. She couldn't help thinking what it would be like to have him by her side every night, to wake to his kisses, his whispered words, his body hard against her. By the time Harper had arrived, Abby was dozing, and had come around to see the girl standing in the middle of the room, gazing at the mess.

"Is everything alright, Mistress?"

"Yes, Harper. Everything is fine."

The girl had nodded, and set about cleaning the room and emptying the bath without a word, just a smile on her face.

Abby had been down to the kitchen earlier, and stolen food and a bottle of French wine while the cook was distracted. She had cleared her dressing table, set it up as a dinner table with the food laid out on it. Now, as she waited for Marcus, she felt nervous, like she had gone too far, made too much of a fuss. Their relationship so far was one of moments, scenes stolen from another life, one that Abby had not dared to think of, until now. Marcus staying the night, coming home to her for a second night was giving her a glimpse of that life and she wanted to test it out, try it on, see how it fit. What she had now realised, though, was that she was testing how they fit into her life, one of a warm home, plentiful food, a bed so comfortable they could stay in it forever. That was not his life. When he had left this morning he had talked about her being with him, not the other way around, and how could it be anything else? She had no home, money or possessions of her own. She would have to live his life, a transient one with no certainties. When he left for the day he would be going out to rob people, and when he came home his success or failure at that activity would determine whether she had something to put on the table for him to eat, once she had learned to cook. They couldn't live on love alone. That was a romantic idea for young people who knew no better.

She was about to reorganise the table so that it looked less formal, when there was a scrape as the door opened. She turned, and there he was, smiling, and in that moment she thought she could live anywhere, in the filthiest, poorest hovel, as long as she was with him.

She smiled back at him, a smile so broad she thought it must take over her whole face; she probably looked ridiculous, like a love-sick young girl, but she didn't care. He crossed to her, took her in his arms, kissed her like it was the first time and the last time, and every time in between. She was breathless when they parted. She wanted to take him to bed, but they didn't make it that far, ending up on the floor in front of the fire, clothes hurriedly pushed up, hands grasping, limbs entwined, bodies sliding against each other.

Afterwards, they lay, panting, slowly getting their breath back. She turned onto her side.

"Hello!" She said.

"Hello to thee." Kane traced the bones of her face with his fingers, before planting a kiss on her lips.

"What have you done today?"

"Missed thee."

Abby smiled. "Of course, but other than that."

"I rode back to camp. I had to give my report of the trip to France to Jaha."

"Was he pleased with you?"

"He's never pleased, but he was satisfied, yes. I am back in favour, for now."

"I am glad. Did you see Murphy?"

"No. Jaha has sent him away on a mission with some men of his own. It is for the best. I still want to kill him."

Abby put her arm on Kane's. "Don't do that. He is not worth it. And it has worked out for the best in the end. We know the truth of each other now."

"Aye, but there is one thing I didn't get chance to tell ye yesterday."

"What is that?"

"Murphy told Jaha about what yer husband did to Alice, and now Jaha is thinking of a way to use it for his own gain."

"Oh."

"Aye. Abby?"

"Yes?"

"Did I see food on the table when I came in?"

"You did. Are you hungry?"

"Ravenous."

"Then we shall eat." She got to her feet, pushed her skirts back down and went to the table. Kane followed her. She saw his eyes roam over the table, taking in its formality. He turned to her.

"It looks beautiful."

"Thank you."

He picked up the wine, inspected its label.

"This has long been one of my favourites."

"Really?"

"Aye. Pass the goblets."

She held out both goblets and he poured them an equal measure, checking the levels as he did so. Abby smiled at him and he noticed.

"What?"

"You are so precise!"

"That's what happens when ye grow up in competition with a brother. Everything has to be exactly the same."

"I did not have that."

"Ye did not miss out."

Abby nodded, although she suspected she had missed out. Kane had smiled affectionately when he mentioned the competition with his brother. She thought it would be nice to grow up with someone, share the same experiences, always have someone to rely on, be there for you as Marcus had been for James, even if his brother didn't know it. It was what she had always wanted for Clarke, though it had never happened.

Kane pulled out a chair and dragged it next to the other one so they were at the same end of the table. He sat down and Abby followed suit. He gazed at the selection of food on the table.

"What do ye recommend?"

"The venison pie. It is flavoured with the juniper I pick."

"Then I must try that." He cut two pieces of the pie, handed her one plate, took the other himself. He took a big bite, and nodded. "Mmm. Ye are right. It is delicious."

Abby felt tears prick at her eyes. He knew she had made an effort and somehow he was acknowledging that while making it less formal, more relaxed. She didn't know why this simple gesture of his was affecting her so greatly. She was not used to anyone noticing what she did, the efforts she made.

"Are ye not having any?"

"Yes, of course. I was just enjoying watching you."

"Ah. Well, I do like good food; I just don't get chance to eat it often."

"No. It must be hard."

Kane shrugged. "It is what it is."

Abby broke off a piece of the pie and ate it while she watched him doing the same. She wanted to tell him she loved him again, because she knew she did, so much. The words were there, rising up from her heart, forming on her lips, but she couldn't say them. It wasn't the right time, they were still getting used to each other again.

"I said we needed to talk, when I left this morning," Kane said, taking a sip of wine.

"Yes, you did."

"Have ye thought any about what I said?"

"About leaving him to be with you?"

"Aye."

"Yes, of course."

"What are yer thoughts?"

Abby hesitated, took a deep breath. She wasn't sure what he wanted her to say.

Kane put his hand on hers. "I'm sorry, Abby. That was unfair. I don't mean to put ye on the spot. I will go first."

He cleared his throat, took another sip of wine.

"I feel like ye are the one for me, but ye are with him, and I know ye don't want to be but I don't know what is to be done about it."

"I feel the same."

"Well that is good, at least." Kane smiled. "Ye could come and be with me."

"Where would we live? The Hundred is men only isn't it? That's why Raven has to pretend. They wouldn't let her in if they knew she was a woman."

"That is true, but we don't have to be with the clan."

"Would Jaha let you leave?"

"I don't know. I swore allegiance to the clan. It is not easy to break it."

"Alasdair will not let me go easily. He's not going to shrug his shoulders and say, "oh, well". He's going to come after us."

"Alasdair." Kane spat the name out. "I don't give a fuck what he thinks."

"Marcus. He's my husband. I belong to him, and he won't sit back and let you take me away."

Kane leant forwards, arms crossed beneath the table. "We need to find a way to get rid of him."

"What do you mean?"

"Not to kill him, don't worry. Not that I wouldn't want to, but he deserves worse than that."

"How can we get rid of him?"

"By using the law. There must be something he has done we can use against him."

Abby sat back in her chair, thinking.

"What about the deal he did with your brother? The one he blackmailed your sister-in-law over?"

"I don't know anything about it. And I wouldn't want to drag my brother into this, not after everything I have done to protect him."

Abby took Kane's hand in hers. "I wouldn't want you to, but if he has done one bad deal, there must be others."

"Ye are right. A man like him wouldn't be able to resist, but how do we get proof?"

"His bedchamber is upstairs, and he uses it for his private business. It is locked but I know how to get in. There are papers. The night of the raid, when we first met, he hid papers in the floor of the carriage. I don't know what they were but they could be important."

"Would he keep such things here, when he is away so much?"

"Where else would he keep them? There's only one way to find out."

Abby felt butterflies stirring in her stomach again, a mixture of nerves and excitement. Kane was stroking his bottom lip in contemplation, but his eyes were shining.

"I will go and look," he said at last.

"I know where the key is. Sinclair keeps a master set of keys in his chamber."

"Abby, this is dangerous. I don't want ye involved."

"I AM involved, Marcus. I want to do this. I want to help you. Don't shut me out."

"Alright. But at the slightest sign of trouble ye stop, come back to me."

"I will. When shall we do it?"

"Now is the perfect time. He is not due home until tomorrow?"

"No."

"Then it must be tonight."

"I am ready."

"We're in this together," Kane said.

"We are." They embraced. Abby held on to him tightly, memorising everything about him, his scent, his soft breath on her skin, the beating of his heart against hers. Not just in case. Not for that. Just because.

Kane didn't want to start the search until he was sure the house was as quiet as possible. The staff were busy preparing for Alasdair's return the following day and there was still too much hustle and bustle in the house to risk going to Sinclair's chamber to look for the keys. They spent the waiting time lying on the bed together, face to face, telling each other stories from their pasts. Kane's life had been much more colourful than Abby's, even before he was banished, which was hardly a surprise. He hadn't sweetened the tales, telling her the good things and the bad things he had done. It was obvious to Abby that, despite his role in the Hundred leading him to do take part in activities he would prefer not to, he was prouder of the man he had become since he joined the clan than the man he was before. He looked on his younger self as a wastrel, a good-for-nothing, but Abby thought he was being harsh. He hadn't changed so much as developed, embracing qualities that he had supressed when he was young. His kindness and desire to help others were there, otherwise he wouldn't have reacted to Alice's plight the way he had, and there was no doubt the young man he had been was still very much in evidence, in the cockiness and self-assuredness that had first attracted her to him.

Abby had surprised herself by telling him about Jacob, how she had grown up in his shadow, the younger playmate who was an annoyance to him. How she was surprised when he had been willing to marry her after their parents arranged it, and he had told her on their wedding night that he had always loved her. She was twenty and he was twenty-four and neither of them had any experience at love and they had fumbled their way to laying together. Abby knew now that it was a simple love, naïve and artless, but it had seemed everything to them at the time. She had kept strong when he was dying but had fallen apart afterwards, missing him and not knowing what was to become of her, a widow at twenty-five with a young child. She was grateful when his younger brother agreed to marry her and treat Clarke as his own. She was happy to be able to stay in the home she had made with Jacob, but then that had become a cruel irony, because Alasdair turned that home into a prison, and made the memories of her previous life too painful to think about.

Kane held her when she finished telling him the tale, wrapping her in his arms so tight she had to lift her head so she could breathe.

"I'm sorry that happened to thee," he said. "I wish Jacob were still here, even if it meant I would never have thee, so ye would never have had to be with HIM."

"I wish he had not died. As for the rest, I have survived it, and now it has led to you."

"It will all be worth it, and we will be together soon. I have hope."

"Hope is everything."

"Aye. It is." Kane released her from his grip and sat up. "I think it is time."

Abby got off the bed, smoothed her skirts down, turned to look at Kane who was lying on his side, his arm propping him up, eyes crinkled into a concerned smile.

"I am ready," she said.

"Good. Be as quiet as ye can but don't creep; it's not natural and if anyone sees thee it will look strange. If ye look like ye're where ye meant to be, it will be fine."

"I will."

"Ye know what to say if anyone sees thee in his chamber?"

"I am to seem unwell and say that I am looking for Harper."

"That's right. Her chamber is close by so it will not seem too strange." Kane swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. "Come here."

She went to him and he cupped her face so that she was looking up into his eyes. "Are ye sure about this?"

Abby nodded. "Let's do this." She went to leave, but Kane stopped her.

"Be careful. The tower is safe enough, but in the main house ye're on dangerous ground."

She reached up and kissed him, then left the room, easing the door closed behind her. She was dressed only in her nightslip in order to seem as though she was half asleep if anyone questioned her, and it was cold. She shivered as goosebumps rose on her arms and legs. She was bare-footed and her footsteps were silent as she padded along the stone floor which felt like ice beneath her feet. It was dark in the tower where her bedchamber was located. The steps down to the ground floor were not lit in order to disorientate intruders and Abby held to the stone wall as she negotiated the narrow circular steps, feeling for the wider edge with her toes before committing her foot fully. It took an age to go down four flights of steps but eventually she could see a faint glow touching the walls and knew she was nearing the bottom. She hadn't expected to see anyone in the tower because no one except Harper had reason to come there, but now she was in the main part of the house, and one of her staff could be around any corner. The hallway was lit by weak candlelight from the small shelves cut into the wall at regular intervals. It was tempting to hug the wall as she moved, staying in the shadows, but Marcus had said that would look suspicious, so she straightened her back, and walked with a confidence she did not feel down the centre of the hallway. At the far end was another door, which opened onto the Great Hall. Abby knew from experience that this door creaked when it was opened but she pulled it anyway, wincing as the sound echoed around the stone walls, and closed it behind her, standing with her back to it for a moment, listening to see if anyone had heard, was heading her way. Her heart was pounding in her ears, but that was the only sound she could hear. The rest was complete silence. She crossed the hall quickly, past the tapestries and the framed photos of the Griffin men going back to the time of William the Conqueror. Jacob's portrait was there, his eyes following her as she headed to the other door. She thought he would approve, perhaps not of Marcus, but of what she was doing now. He would never have wanted her to live the life she had with his brother. She didn't usually like to look at his portrait. It saddened her to think of the life she could have had. She preferred living at Arkholm Tower, where the memories of Jacob were fewer, as they had not lived there when he was alive.

Thoughts of him carried her across the large room to the other door and through to a hallway that was the same as the one she had come through. This was where the live-in servants were housed. Sinclair's quarters were at the end of the hallway, close to the exit. Abby had to walk past the rooms of the servants to reach the chamber. Most of them were away with Alasdair but there were still some guards and groomsmen sleeping in the larger of the chambers, which they shared. She took a deep breath and walked down the hallway. She was almost at the door to Sinclair's chamber when she heard the sound of boots on the stone floor. She panicked, and hid herself in a darkened alcove near the door. This was exactly what Marcus had told her not to do, but her instincts took over, and it was too late to change her mind now because the boots were close by. She held her breath, flattened herself against the wall as though she could melt into it. The boots stopped, just the tips of them in her view. They were dark leather, like the guards wore. There was silence for a moment, and then a huge belch issued from the owner of the boots before he started moving again. Abby waited for the sound of the door to the hall opening, and then slipped out of the alcove, anxious to get into Sinclair's chamber before anyone else could disturb her. She had to supress a laugh, born from nerves more than amusement. She was taken over by a fear that he would be inside, that he had come back early somehow while she wasn't looking, while she was on the floor with Marcus, or lying in bed with him too engrossed in their talk to hear the approach of a horse and carriage.

She shook her head. She was being irrational. There was no possible way Sinclair had come back ahead of Alasdair. She had a key to his quarters, given to her by Sinclair so she could find anything he or Alasdair needed while they were away; he did not trust anyone else in the household to enter his chamber or that of Alasdair. He had no doubt never suspected that she would end up using it to betray him. Abby turned the key in the lock and eased the door open. The room was dark, and quiet. She listened for the sound of someone breathing but there was nothing. As her eyes adjusted to the dark of the room, she could tell it was empty. She felt her way to the desk at the far side of the chamber and opened it. The master keys were in a small drawer beneath the writing surface. She lifted the surface and found them. She couldn't see well enough in the dark to tell which was the key to Alasdair's room, so she took all the keys. There were ten in total and they jangled as she closed the lid of the desk and crossed to the door. She had not brought anything with her to put them in as she had expected to only be carrying one plus the key to Sinclair's chamber, so she folded them as tight as she could within the palm of her hand and hoped fervently that she wouldn't come across anyone on her way back. She waited in Sinclair's chamber, the door open a crack so she could hear if the guard returned as he finished his round. It was not long before she heard the clack of his boots again and then the sound of the large outside door opening and closing, the key turning in the lock. She slipped out of the room, locking it behind her, and walked as quickly as she dared back down the hallway, across the Great Hall to the foot of her tower. She ran up the stairs, more certain of her footing climbing in the dark than she had been descending. Kane was pacing her bedchamber when she opened the door and he crossed to her, putting his arms on her shoulders.

"Are ye alright? Did ye encounter any trouble?"

Abby unfurled her hand, showed him the keys she had been gripping so tightly they had left their impressions in her skin.

"I wasn't sure which it was, so I brought them all."

Kane kissed her.

"Ye did well."

"I thought I would be scared, but it was thrilling."

Kane nodded. "Aye. It warms yer blood, doesn't it?" He took the keys from her. "Are there any we can discard as not the ones?"

"Those ones are not big enough."

Kane took the keys she indicated off the ring, leaving him with four to try.

"My turn," he said.

"Let me go with you."

"No. Only one of us should take the risk. There is no point both of us being caught."

"You will not be caught. You are the Grey Wolf."

"Aye. I have been in and out of more chambers than I've had hot dinners."

"I'm not sure I want to know about that!"

Kane laughed. "No, perhaps not."

"Good luck."

Kane nodded, and left to go up to the fifth floor and Alasdair's chamber.

Abby sat at the table and waited, picking at the food which was starting to dry out, the pie crusts going hard, the meats curling at the edges. She found another cloth and laid it over the top to protect everything. There was still some wine in her goblet so she drank it, enjoying the feel of it flowing through her nerves, warming them up. She wondered what Kane was doing, whether he had found anything. Did he know all the places to look? Alasdair was devious; he wouldn't keep his secrets in easy to find places.

She knew she was going to follow him, had known it since the moment he told her she couldn't. The thought that she knew Alasdair better than he did was all the excuse she needed. She opened the door, checked no one was around, and then went up to the top floor. The heavy door creaked as she pushed it open. The room was lit by a single candle and Kane jumped as he heard the door, turning around quickly, his hand going to his ballack knife, drawing it out before she had a chance to speak.

He gave her a look of disapproval, eyebrows raised, one slightly higher than the other.

"I told ye not to come."

"You never listen to me, why should I listen to you?"

Kane relaxed then, and smiled. He put his knife away. "Alright. It will be quicker with two anyway. Start near the bed. I have not looked there yet."

Abby went over to Alasdair's bed, lay down on the floor to crawl under it, look for hidden boxes or compartments, anything that he wouldn't want the servants to find. She could only just fit, the gap between the bed and the floor was so narrow.

"Abby. Don't get on the floor, it is dirty. I will do that."

"It is alright." The floor was covered with dust and she sneezed.

"I told thee. Come out from under there."

"I will, just a moment." There was something between two of the wooden slats, a long, thin object that she could feel but couldn't prise it out. "I have found something, but I can't reach it properly. There must be another way. Can you help me out, I'm stuck?"

Kane walked over and she could see his boots at the edge of the bed if she turned her head. She held her arms out in front of her and his hands appeared and grasped hers. He pulled her out from under the bed and she sat up. He shook his head as he looked at her. "Look at thee. Ye are covered in dust." He brushed her hair with his fingers, pulling long strands of dust from it and discarding them on the floor.

"There is something in the base of the bed, Marcus. We must be able to get to it another way because Alasdair could not possibly fit under there."

"Heavens no. Let us take the bedding off."

They stripped the sheets and featherbed to reveal the canvas straw-stuffed mattress. Abby couldn't lift it but Kane managed it easily, raising one part so they could look underneath. It was too dark to see so he flipped the mattress over and it landed on the floor on the opposite side of the bed. Now they could see that the bed was not constructed as usual. There were two sets of slats, one above the other and two wooden boxes nestled between them, narrow but deep. Kane pulled them both out and laid them on the slats. Kane and Abby knelt on the floor next to each other.

"Whatever is in these must be important," said Abby. "Alasdair would not go to so much trouble to hide them if it weren't."

"We shall find out." Kane lifted the lid on one of the boxes. Inside were jewels; rings, necklaces and brooches, some ornate, some plain and simple.

"I don't recognise any of these," said Abby, bringing out some of the jewels to inspect them.

"I do," replied Kane, a grim look on his face. He held up a gold locket, oval-shaped with a fleur-de-lis pattern engraved on it. "This belonged to my mother."

"Your mother? Are you sure?"

"Aye. There should be two locks of hair inside, one for James and one for me."

He handed the locket to Abby and she flipped open the delicate clasp. Kane was right; the locket contained two locks of hair, one dark and curled and the other lighter and straight. She was astonished.

"How?"

"James gave it to Alice on their wedding day."

"Oh no." Abby looked at the box. There were many items of jewellery in it, upwards of thirty. "You don't think?" She couldn't say the rest of the sentence.

Kane let out a shaky breath. He was trying to control his anger she could tell.

"I do. They're his trophies, Abby."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. All these women. How could I not know?"

She buried her face in her hands in despair, tears flowing through her fingers.

Kane pulled her to him. "It is not yer fault. He is good at hiding who he is."

"Not that good," she said between sobs. "All the servants know but they didn't tell me."

"They didn't want to hurt thee, as I didn't. They love you, Abby. They know what yer life is like with him."

Kane was trying to ease her pain but it was making her feel worse, and guilty, because she should be comforting him. He was the wronged party, he and his family. She pulled away from him, wiped her tears on her sleeve.

"We have to stop him."

"Aye. We will. Let us see what is in the other box."

The other box contained private papers, deeds to land and buildings, leases and covenants. Judging from these, Alasdair owned half of the Border country, but secretly, through a web of other Lairds, ones who had fallen on harder times perhaps, or who he promised other rewards in return for their land.

"There is nothing illegal here," said Kane. "Some subterfuge perhaps, but nothing that he wouldn't be able to talk his way out of."

Abby was disappointed. She had been so certain they would find something. He had to be involved in something illegal. It was his very nature. She started to put the jewels back in the box when she noticed a small loop of ribbon attached to the bottom. She emptied all the jewels out and pulled on the loop. What she had thought was the bottom of the box was in fact a lid, and when she removed it there were papers beneath, ones with the Royal seal upon them. Her stomach flipped, her hands grew sweaty.

"Marcus."

"Hmmm?" He did not look at her, too busy trying to put the other box back amongst the slats where he had found it.

"Look at this."

He turned then, and she handed him the papers. He was quiet while he read it and she watched his face, saw his eyes widen, his mouth drop slightly open, and she knew she had found the prize.

"These are deals, Abby, to buy the King's land."

"What is wrong with that?"

"Nothing, ordinarily. The papers with the seal on them, they are legitimate records of the sale of the land, but there are other papers here." He showed them to Abby and she came closer so she could see them. "These show that the land was valued at far more than Alasdair paid for it, and he had false papers drawn up to show a lesser value. He has defrauded the King."

"Oh!"

"Aye. This is treasonous."

"He will go to gaol if this becomes known?"

"More than that. He will be hanged. Treason is a capital offence. The King will make an example of him."

"Marcus."

"What?"

"You said we wouldn't kill him."

"And we will not. The King will do it for us!"

Kane was delighted with her find, it was all over his face, but Abby could not share his joy. The thought of sending Alasdair to the gallows, being responsible for his death filled her with fear, and sadness.

Kane noticed her reticence. "We have to answer for our sins, Abby. Look at these jewels, look at the women he has hurt, the lives he has ruined. He has beaten thee, made ye feel worthless. He does not deserve to live."

Abby knew he was right, but she couldn't shake the dread that had settled in her stomach.

"Are ye with me on this?"

She nodded, because really there was nothing else she could do. Kane was expecting her to say yes, and it was the wrong that had been done to him they were righting after all. She had to go through with it.

"Good. Let us put the chamber straight and get out of here. Time is drifting away."

They put everything they had disturbed back in its place, Kane even pushing the dust back under the bed as best he could. He had kept the necklace that had belonged to his mother. Abby saw him putting it into his pouch. Seeing that action helped strengthen her resolve. Alasdair had done so much wrong to so many people. All they had to do was expose him and then his punishment was up to the courts, and the King.

When they got back to her bedchamber they stripped their clothes off and got into bed. They didn't lay together, both of them too tired and overwrought from what they had found to feel desire, but they slept in each other's arms, skin to skin, needing the warmth and comfort it brought.

Abby was dozing, dreaming of the home she and Marcus would make together when she was free of Alasdair, when the door to her chamber banged open, startling her. She sat up and Kane did too. Her heart was in her mouth as she turned to see who had come into the chamber. It was Harper. The girl was standing there, the door wide open behind her, staring at Kane. Abby pulled the sheets up to cover her body.

"Harper!"

The maid dragged her eyes from Kane and looked at Abby.

"Mistress! Mister Sinclair is returned. He is coming to see thee."

"Now?"

"Aye."

Abby looked at Kane in horror. He leapt out of bed, stark naked, and went around the room, gathering his clothes and boots from the various locations he had discarded them just a short while before. Abby pulled her nightdress on and ran to the table, folding the cloth up with the food still in it and bundling it under the bed, together with the wine bottle and goblets. Harper was standing in the same spot, watching Kane as he dressed.

"Ye're the Grey Wolf."

"Aye."

"Ye are even more handsome than I thought."

Kane smiled. Abby sighed.

"Harper. Go and delay Sinclair. Tell him I am not yet dressed. He must wait."

"Aye, Mistress." She left. Abby looked at Kane.

"What are we going to do? You can't leave the tower."

"I could go up, to the next floor."

"What if Alasdair is with him? He may go straight to his chamber. There is no time. You'll have to hide."

There was a large cabinet on the far side of the room where her dresses were kept. Abby opened it, removed a plain dress to wear, and shoved Kane inside, closing the door on him and locking it before he could protest. She scanned the room, looking for anything they had missed. The papers they had stolen were on the chair and she gathered them up, hiding them in a drawer of her dressing table. Her eyes alighted on the bed. It was obvious to her that two people had slept in it. Both pillows had dents in them and the fur was folded back on both sides from when they had pushed the covers off and leapt out of the bed. She smoothed the fur down on Kane's side, took his pillow and put it under hers. That was all she had time to do before the door opened again and Sinclair entered, followed by Harper.

Abby was still dressed only in her night clothes. She pulled her cloak around her.

Sinclair bowed his head. "My Lady."

"Sinclair! What is so urgent? I am not fit to receive visitors."

"I am sorry, My Lady. I had thought ye would be up by now."

"I have not been well."

"Please forgive me."

As he was talking, Abby glanced to the far side of the room where an object was laying in the corner. It was Kane's pouch, his ballack knife hanging from it, glinting as the sun's rays landed on it. Abby felt sick. She moved so that Sinclair had his back to the area while he talked to her.

"What can I do for you?"

"Word reached me yesterday that ye were here, and not at Arkholm where I left thee. The guards said that ye had trouble, with the reivers."

"I did. I thought it best to come here, away from them."

"Ye have been here over a sevenday but ye did not send word to me. I told ye to tell me immediately the next time ye saw Marcus Kane."

Abby's chest grew tight, making it hard for her to breathe. "It was not Kane that I saw; it was others of his clan."

"Who?"

"I do not know their names."

"It doesn't matter who it was. If his clan was there, Kane was sure to be close."

"I have not seen him." Abby didn't know how the words were coming out of her mouth, how she could tell such a lie when Kane was hiding just a few feet away, and his belongings were in plain view in the corner of her chamber. She was certain Sinclair must see through her. He was looking at her closely.

"I wonder."

"What do you wonder?"

Sinclair rubbed his chin, and sighed. "Ye are a kind woman, My Lady. Too kind. Ye know he is a wanted man, that Lord Griffin means to hunt him down?"

Abby nodded, unsure where this was going. "He has said as much, yes."

"Then it would be a folly to protect Kane, to pretend he is not stalking this household when he clearly is."

"I do not understand what you are saying, Sinclair. Why would I protect him?" Abby was aghast at the turn this conversation had taken. What did Sinclair know? What was he trying to say to her?

"Because ye are kind, as I said, and ye don't want to see a man go to the gallows. But he is a bad man, My Lady. He is not worthy of yer pity. I beg thee to consider what I am saying."

"I know what kind of man he is, Sinclair."

"Good. Then think on my words, that is all I ask."

Abby nodded. While the conversation was ongoing, Harper had been looking around the room, and had spotted the pouch in the corner. She looked at Abby open-mouthed. Abby's nod was meant for Harper as well as Sinclair, to encourage the girl to try and hide the pouch. The maid edged back to the corner of the room as Sinclair continued.

"Lord Alasdair is most angry that ye didn't inform us, My Lady. I wanted to warn ye about that. He wants to see thee straight away."

"Is he here now?"

"No. I rode ahead, made an excuse that there were things I needed to prepare. He will be here around midday."

"Thank you. I appreciate your warnings, Sinclair."

"See that ye heed them this time."

He turned just as Harper stood over the pouch, her long skirts hiding it from his view. The maid bowed her head as Sinclair went past. Then she shut the door behind him.

They waited a few moments, standing looking at each other in silence, waiting to make sure Sinclair wasn't coming back.

"I think he is gone, Mistress."

Abby nodded, went over to the cabinet to let Kane out. He took a deep breath as he emerged. His face was red and sweaty.

"It was hot in there!"

"It was hot out here! Did you hear what Sinclair said?"

"Aye. He's a better man than I thought."

"He suspects something, Marcus."

"Nay. He understands thee better than ye think, that is all. He sees yer big heart."

Abby wasn't certain, but Kane seemed sure, and that eased her worries a little.

"Can ye go and watch the exit for me, Harper? I want to speak to yer mistress and then I have tae leave."

"Oh, aye." Harper beamed and left to do as Kane asked.

He took Abby's face in his hands, as he often did when he wanted to reassure her, or tell her something important.

"Yer husband is coming home."

She nodded.

"And ye're going to have to talk to him, spend time with him perhaps."

"I don't think I can, Marcus. Not after what we have seen."

"I know it's hard. I don't want ye anywhere near him, and if I could take ye away now, I would. Ye have to be strong, like I know ye are."

"What if he wants to lay with me? I can't bear the thought of it, but I can't refuse him."

"Tell him ye have yer monthly blood. He'll leave ye alone then, won't he?"

"Yes."

"Then do that. When he speaks to thee, say as little as possible, but stick to the truth as much as ye can. A lie works best when there's a grain of truth to it."

"I hate that ye know these things because of him, how he has made you live this life."

Kane gave her a wry smile. "Abby, I did a fair amount of lying and cheating before this happened. I am not a saint, ye know that."

"I know."

"I must go before it gets light." He kissed her, his arm wrapped around her neck in that possessive way he had. She slipped her hands up his back, feeling the muscles shifting as he leaned into the kiss, pressing her harder to him. At last they broke apart, although every nerve in her body was telling her to hold onto him, to not let him go.

"We're in this together," he said.

"Yes. Be careful. I am not convinced about Sinclair. He could be watching the door."

"It's a risk I will have tae take, but I don't think so. I will send Raven back to thee tomorrow."

"Oh, please do. I have missed her. When will I see you again?"

"I am not certain. I need to study the papers and work out what is best to do. I will send ye word through Raven." Kane went to the door, looked outside, then turned to Abby.

Abby smiled, even though inside she wanted to break apart. "'Til we meet again."

"Stay strong, my love."

"I will."

Kane left and Abby felt the loss of him straight away. She sat in her chair in front of the fireplace, which was cold, and tried not to worry about seeing Alasdair again, but it was difficult. She needed a distraction now that Kane had gone. She looked at the fire, at the pile of logs next to it. Perhaps she should try to make one up? She was sure she could work out how to do it. After all, humans had been setting fires for as long as history. How hard could it be?


	13. The Lie In The Grain Of Truth

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – THE LIE IN THE GRAIN OF TRUTH

 **The Hundred Camp, The Cheviot Hills**

It was midday when Kane arrived back at camp. He entered his quarters to find Raven lying on his bed.

"Hello stranger!"

"I've only been gone a night."

"Two nights, actually."

"I was here yesterday, briefing Jaha."

"Well I didn't see thee. He sent me after Murphy with some equipment."

"Don't mention that bastard's name."

"He's looking forward to seeing thee too."

Kane pulled his chair out and sat down, opened his bottle of poteen and poured a cup. He offered it to Raven but she shook her head.

"I'll bet he is," said Kane.

"I take it from yer being out all night that Abby has forgiven thee?"

"Aye, but it was a close thing. She was so hurt, Raven. She spent all that sevenday waiting for me to come or for her husband to find out, not knowing which it would be. I can't forgive Murphy for doing that to her."

"I don't blame thee. He'll get his due one day."

Kane nodded, took a sip of the whisky, and sighed.

"Ye're in love with her?"

"Aye, seems that way. I asked her to be with me."

"In the clan?" Raven looked astonished, her mouth gaping open, eyes wide.

"Possibly."

"Kane. Ye've lost yer mind. A lady like her is not going to want to live like this, even if Jaha let her in, which he is never going to do."

Kane looked around the dwelling. It was one large room with a bed, a table and two chairs. There was a small opening in a wall for a window but it had no glass, just a wooden shutter. The window gave little light, even though the shutter was open and it was the middle of the day. His bed was made from wood he had cut from the forest. There was no ornate carved headboard, no featherbed filled with the finest down. He slept on a thin blanket stuffed with straw and had another thin blanket as a covering. The room smelled permanently of smoke from the fire in the centre of the floor. There was a small covered hole in the roof to allow the smoke to escape but it did an inadequate job. He never knew if he would eat from one day to the next, his clothes were ragged and dirty. The only means of washing himself was if he happened to pass a loch and had some time. He had no possessions because he lived a life that could be picked up and moved on a horse at a moment's notice. None of these things had bothered him until now. How could he expect Abby to come and live like this?

"Earth to Kane!"

"Sorry."

Raven sat up, her legs dangling over the side of his bed. "What did she say, when ye asked her?"

Kane took another sip of whisky. It was early for drinking, but he was still shaken up from nearly being caught by Sinclair that morning, and by what they had found in the early hours. The locket felt heavy in his jacket pocket, where it lay next to Abby's necklace.

"She wants to be with me, but there's the small problem of her husband."

"Not such a small problem."

Kane laughed. "No."

"What are ye going to do about it?"

"We've already started something."

Raven got up, came over to the table and sat in the chair next to Kane.

"Tell me everything. And pour me one of those."

Kane poured her a whisky and told her everything that had happened since he had returned from France.

"Let me see the papers," said Raven when he had finished the tale. Kane handed them to her and she peered at them in the gloom. "These look so real."

"I think they are real. The papers the King signed are legitimate. He believed this was the true valuation and sold the land to Lord Griffin accordingly. It's these papers that are the false ones." He flipped a couple of the pages over and tapped on the ones he meant. "I don't know a lot about land deals but this land here, for example, Polisfield, is close to my father's estate. It has minerals and iron ore. I'm sure it's worth far more than what Alasdair has paid for it."

"Wouldn't the King know that, though?"

"Why would he? He's never been to the Borders, and if Alasdair has the right people involved, the notaries, the valuers, the Sheriff, for example, then the King would have no reason to doubt it."

"I can't believe ye found this, Kane."

"Abby found it."

Raven shook her head.

"How is she married to that monster?"

"She thought he had saved her at the time."

"He's evil, Kane. The things the servants say about him."

"I know. We have tae bring him down."

"How?"

"That's a good question. Is there anything brewing in that brain of yers?"

"Ye could blackmail him with the papers, tell him ye'll show the King if he doesn't release Abby from the marriage."

Kane shook his head. "I don't want him to know about me and Abby."

"He's going to find out sooner or later, Kane."

"Not if he's dead."

"Ye want him dead? I thought ye said ye'd promised Abby not to kill him?"

"I promised I wouldn't kill him myself, but he can't escape justice. If he's dead, she is free, and without blemish. We could be married and live an honest life."

"Ye'd still be living here, though. Is that what she wants?"

"Perhaps I could go and see my father, once the truth is out. He might take me back."

"Ye would go back tae that life? Is that what ye want?"

"I don't know, Raven." Kane sighed. "No, I don't want to live that life again, but it is what Abby is used to. She deserves a good home, nice things. I want to take care of her."

"Seems to me ye need to be honest with each other about what ye both want or don't want. Have ye thought this through?"

They hadn't thought it through, and they hadn't discussed it properly either. She had not said no to living with him in the camp but she had not said yes either, and he suspected she was appeasing him when she agreed that Alasdair deserved to be hanged for his crimes.

"What I do know, is that I want him to face justice. Whether he swings or not is up to the King."

"Then we need to get the papers to the Sheriff, so Alasdair can be arrested."

Kane rubbed his chin while he thought. "Is the Sheriff trustworthy? Alasdair must have the Sheriff of Dumfriesshire in his pocket otherwise the land deal for Polisfield would not have gone through. There's no reason to think it isn't the same for Roxburghshire, or Berwickshire, or anywhere that Alasdair has dealings, which is most of the Borders."

"Is he really that powerful?"

"Seems that way. How else has he got away with all his crimes for so long?"

"What about the Warden of the East Marches? He's the King's man. He wouldn't be in Alasdair's pocket."

Raven had a point. The Warden was appointed by the King of Scotland to control justice in the Borders.

"How will we get a meeting with him? He's not going tae see me."

Raven stood up and paced the small room, thinking. Kane took another small shot of poteen. It probably wasn't helping his brain to think more clearly, but it was warming, comforting. Raven came back to the table, a bright smile on her face.

"Jaha," she said.

"Jaha?

"Aye. He's known the Warden many years. How else do ye think our clan moves so easily around the borders?"

Kane was astonished. "Raven. If the Warden can be bribed by Jaha then he can be bribed by Alasdair. He can't be trusted."

"Nay. It's not about bribery, it's about honour. I don't know the whole story but it's a family thing going back generations. Jaha's grandfather saved the Warden's grandfather back in the Crusades or something."

Raven never ceased to amaze Kane with her resourcefulness. "How do ye know this?"

"I listen. Jaha takes me with him on his trips a lot as ye know. He forgets I'm there. Quiet as a mouse, remember. I hear lots of things I shouldn't do."

"I'm not sure about involving Jaha. He already knows what Alasdair did to Alice, and about my relationship with Abby. He means to gain from it. What can he gain from telling the Warden and Alasdair being arrested?"

"Reward, Kane. There is sure to be a reward from the King for the arrest of such a prominent person. Land perhaps. A title."

"Aye. Jaha's always wanted a title. This could be it, Raven."

Kane stood up and gave Raven a kiss on the forehead. "Ye're a marvel."

Raven blushed. "So ye like the idea, then?"

"I do."

"When shall we do it?"

"There's no time like the present."

"Aren't ye going to discuss it with Abby first?"

"There's no need. This is the right thing to do, the only way. She will agree with me, so why delay?"

"If ye're sure."

"I am."

Kane gathered the papers together, put them in his pouch. He closed the shutters and moved towards the door. Raven put her arm on his to stop him.

"Kane."

"Aye?"

"I'm sorry about yer brother's wife, about Alice. I always wondered what happened there, what was the truth of it."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell thee. I thought it best nobody knew."

"It doesn't matter. Knowing wouldn't have changed how I feel about thee."

Kane took her into his arms, gave her a warm hug. "Ye've always been a friend to me."

Raven hugged him back, her arms tight around him. "Ye saved me."

"Ye saved yerself. I was just in the right place at the right time."

"Those men would have killed me."

Kane thought back to the night he had found Raven, surrounded by four men, stripped naked, kicking and punching them, landing a few good blows. "Ye were doing a good job of fighting them off when I arrived."

"Aye, but there were too many of them. They would have overpowered me eventually."

"Aye, perhaps. I'm not sure they would have been able to perform after ye kicked them all in the nuts though. Ye'd have been spared that, at least."

Raven laughed. "I would have left this world beautiful and unsullied."

"I wish ye could live as yer true self, and find someone to make thee happy."

"Maybe I already have."

"Ye have?"

"Aye, but he doesn't feel the same; he loves another."

Kane stepped back, looked at Raven, at her large dark eyes, so warm and loving. Realisation sank slowly in. "There are better men than me in the world."

Raven sighed. "I don't think so, but it is alright. Abby is perfect for thee, and I love her nearly as much as I love thee." She punched Kane's arm playfully. "Anyway, let us go and find Jaha, and put this plan into action."

 **Dun's House, Berwickshire**

Abby's nerves were so frayed waiting for Alasdair to return she had ended up retrieving the bottle of wine from under the bed and filling her goblet with a large helping. It was slightly sour as she hadn't corked it properly the night before, but she didn't care. She sipped it while Harper cleared the food away.

"Don't drink too much, Mistress. Ye want a clear head."

"I know, but I need some courage as well."

"Ye won't find it in a goblet."

Abby put the goblet down. "When did you get so wise, Harper?"

"From having a pa who was quick with his fists and a mam who drank to cope with it."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. I got out of there, and I'm with thee now."

"I'm not sure that the Master and I are much different to your parents."

"He isn't, but ye are. As long as ye don't pick that up again."

"I won't."

"Are ye going to leave him? The Master."

"I don't know, Harper. It is not easy to do."

The girl made up the bed, returning Marcus's pillow to its rightful place, fluffing it until it looked as though he had never lain on it. The action made Abby sad. All traces of him were now gone from her chamber, as though he had never been there at all. If she didn't have Harper as a witness, she might think it had all been a dream, that he had never come back for her, but he had. It wouldn't be long before their plan was put into action, and she wouldn't have to worry about Alasdair ever again.

Just as she had that thought there was a knock on the door. Harper opened it. Blake was standing there.

"Good morning, Mistress."

"Good morning, Blake. It is good to see you."

"Aye. I'm sorry I have been away so long." He cleared his throat. "The Master wants to see thee, in his chamber."

Abby nodded. "Very well. What kind of mood is he in?"

"Not good, Mistress."

Abby took a deep breath. Repeated Kane's words of earlier that day. Say as little as possible. Stick close to the truth.

"I am ready."

Blake stood aside to allow her to pass through the doorway, then led the way upstairs to Alasdair's chamber, where she and Kane had been just a few hours before. She hoped they had not left any obvious signs in the cold light of day. Blake knocked on the door and then entered.

"The Lady Abigail, My Lord."

"Enter." Alasdair's voice boomed out, deep and resonant, invading every one of Abby's nerves, setting them on edge.

Blake turned, held the door open for Abby. His hand touched hers briefly as she passed. He probably meant it as a reassuring gesture but it was anything but to Abby. What kind of mood was Alasdair in if Blake thought she needed comfort before she faced him?

Blake closed the door behind him as he left, and Abby was left alone with Alasdair. He was sitting at his desk in the corner of the chamber, the one Kane had been rummaging through looking for the papers. It didn't look disturbed to Abby's eyes. Alasdair was looking down and hadn't acknowledged her presence so she risked a glance round the room. Everything seemed in order. The bed looked as they had left it. She couldn't be sure Alasdair hadn't had the mattress upturned to get to his boxes but it didn't appear that way. She returned her attention to Alasdair. With his head bent she could see his hair was thinning; a bald patch was appearing on the top. He had the same coloured hair as Jacob, a dirty blonde that wanted to be brown but didn't quite make it, and the same eyes, a piercing blue that Clarke had inherited. Abby hated looking on him, hated seeing the eyes of her late husband and her daughter looking back at her, because she loved them, and struggled to reconcile their gentleness with Alasdair's aggression.

Fortunately, Alasdair was unlike Jacob in every other respect physically, tending to fat where Jacob was slim, greasy from too much rich food and good wine. He had a problem with his leg that made it painful for him to walk sometimes. He blamed an old battle injury but he had never been in a battle that Abby knew of. She thought he had got it from being overweight and having a poor diet.

At last he looked up at her. Abby stood straighter, she couldn't help it. Old habits died hard.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here. You should be at Arkholm, where I left you."

"I am sorry, Alasdair."

He held a hand up to stop her. "Imagine my surprise to hear that you had moved here, disturbing the servants, causing unnecessary expense to both households, and not only that, but you have been here more than a sevenday, and the first I hear of it is when the cook requests more funds to buy supplies for you."

Abby kept quiet, waiting for him to ask her a question. Don't say too much, Kane had said, and she was determined to stick to that. The more she spoke, the more likely she was to give something away.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I am sorry to have caused trouble for the servants, and expense for you."

"You have said you are sorry twice now. I don't want to hear that you are sorry. I want to know why you left Arkholm in such a hurry, and why you didn't tell me immediately."

Abby thought quickly. Sinclair had told her they knew about the reivers, that the servants had told them, so she must stick to that story.

"I encountered some reivers, close to Arkholm, and they frightened me, so I felt it best to move here, away from them."

Alasdair shook his head. "No."

Fear started to take hold of Abby. He didn't believe her story. Her hands were shaking, so she clasped them together and held them behind her back, so he wouldn't see.

"That is the truth, Alasdair."

"It is not the truth, Abigail. Do you think I am stupid?"

Abby thought this was a rhetorical question so she remained silent but he asked again.

"Do you?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why are you treating me so? You are not clever enough to pull the wool over my eyes, so don't even try. It is one thing to come to Duns because you are frightened, it is another not to tell me or your Heid of the Guard about it. It stinks, Abigail, of something rotten, and I want to know what it is."

Abby swallowed hard. She should have told him and Sinclair straight away, there was no good reason not to, but she had not been in a fit state to speak to them, was so distraught over Kane's betrayal she would have blurted out the truth if questioned back then.

"Has the cat got your tongue?"

"No."

"Then speak. Now."

Hide the lie in a grain of truth.

"It was my fault, that I encountered the reivers."

"Go on."

"I went to the loch, and a group of them were there. They saw me and one of them grabbed me, tried to force himself on me, pushing my skirts up, telling me he meant to have me. I fought him, and managed to get to Juno. She was faster than their nags so I got away. I was scared they would follow me to Arkholm so I left for Duns. I didn't want to tell you, because you had told me not to go to the loch, and I disobeyed. I was ashamed." She said the words in a rush, as though she was grateful to be finally confessing her shame to him.

Alasdair sat back in his chair, surveying her with Jacob's eyes. She looked down at the floor, mainly so she did not have to look at him, but also to make sure she looked suitably contrite at her actions.

"You are right to be ashamed. I expressly forbid you to go to the loch and the moment my back is turned you disobey me and go straight there. What is so fascinating about that place?"

"I find it peaceful."

"Peaceful! What is there that is so exciting in your life that you need to find peace? You do nothing except sit around being pampered by your maid." He shook his head. "You have it too easy, Abigail, that is your trouble."

Abby nodded, still looking at the floor.

Alasdair sucked air through his teeth which he often did when he was thinking. Abby waited, wondering if that was it, if he was satisfied with her story.

"Who were the reivers?"

"I had not seen them before."

"Which clan? What was their tartan?"

Abby was not so keen on this line of questioning, suspected where Alasdair wanted to go with it.

"They appeared to be of The Hundred clan."

Alasdair banged the table, making Abby jump and look up at him. He was red in the face.

"Godammit! That bloody Kane again no doubt."

"He was not there, Alasdair."

"He doesn't bloody need to be there. Everything that clan does he is behind."

"Sinclair said he was not their leader."

"He's their leader alright. That black man Jaha may be Heid but Kane's the one they all follow. Are you sure he wasn't there?"

"I have not forgotten him. He was not there."

"He is targeting me, trying to take my property from me, ruin me."

"Why would he do that, Alasdair?"

"Does he need a bloody reason? He's a thief, and a rapist. You know that better than most."

Abby was shocked. Alasdair had never acknowledged what had happened to her that night, even going so far as to deny it when asked about it at their dinner with the other Lords. She didn't trust herself to speak. Alasdair continued anyway, musing out loud as though she wasn't there.

"It's as though he has a vendetta against me, though I can't think why. I have never done any wrong to him."

Abby stuck her fingernails into her palms to keep herself from screaming. Alasdair seemed genuinely perplexed that Kane was targeting him. She knew he was good at presenting a different face to the world than his true one, but was he this good? Had he somehow convinced himself that he had done no wrong? Of all the people who knew the rumours of what happened in the Kane family, Alasdair was the only one who knew that Kane was innocent. Did he suspect Kane knew the truth and was now seeking his revenge?

"He must think you have done something. Is there nothing you can think of?"

"Of course not," Alasdair snapped. "I have never had any dealings with him, never even met him until that night on Dere Street. He was a lazy scrounger who made his own father despair of him. It's no surprise to me he's ended up where he has."

"I am sorry I did not tell you that I was here, Alasdair, and I'm sorry for going to the loch when you told me not to. It will not happen again." Abby wanted to steer the conversation away from Kane, although it was interesting to see how much he was affecting Alasdair. The man was obsessed with Kane, that was plain to see. It gave Abby a frisson of happiness to see Alasdair so rattled.

Alasdair waved his hand in dismissal of her apology.

"You're always sorry, and you always say it won't happen again, and then it does. I don't know what to do with you, Abigail. You're a great disappointment as a wife, in every way. You're wilful, disobedient, you don't give me the support I require, you haven't given me the son I have longed for. What is the point of you? I often wish I had not married you, but there is nothing to be done about it now. I expect your complete obedience from now on. One more misstep and you will find yourself living somewhere a lot less comfortable than you are used to."

Abby bit back all the things she wanted to say to him. He had said these words to her many times over the years, and she had come to think they were true; she was pointless, worthless, a waste of an existence. Things had changed, however. She was loved, valued, needed, desired, and Alasdair's words could no longer hurt her. She thought he was going to dismiss her but it seemed there was one thing he couldn't get off his mind.

"Did he say anything, when he had you?"

"Who?"

"Kane."

Abby was mortified hearing this question. It was completely unexpected. What was he hoping to hear, what did he want her to say?

"I…He…" She stumbled over her words, couldn't think of what to say.

"He must have said something."

"He said something crude about my breasts."

"That is all?"

"That I recall, yes."

"Then what?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What did he do after he mentioned your breasts?"

"He made me lay on the ground."

"And then he had his way with you?"

"Yes."

"How did he do it?"

Abby shook her head. She was perplexed by this line of questioning. Why did he want to know all this so long after the event? He hadn't given a fig when it first happened, didn't even try to console her.

"I don't understand what you mean."

"Were you on your back or, er, your front when he entered you?"

"The usual way, on my back."

"And it was just the once, in that manner?"

"Yes. It was over very quickly."

Alasdair seemed satisfied with her answers, giving a small nod and an exhale of breath. Abby didn't let herself relax just yet, but it appeared he had done with her. Whatever test he had given her, whatever he had wanted to hear, she seemed to have passed it, said the right things.

"You may go. Stay in your chamber. You are not to leave the house until I say so, and I honestly don't know when that will be, Abigail."

"Thank you, Alasdair."

He bent his head again, shuffled his papers. Abby glared at him, eyes narrowed, lips set in a thin line. She wished she had the power to harness the elements and bring a lightning bolt down on his head. She had to satisfy herself with thoughts of her and Marcus, and their plan. Alasdair could keep her locked up as long as he wanted; he wouldn't be able to stop Kane. The Grey Wolf had him in his sights, and he wasn't going to give up until he had his prey. Abby smiled as she went back down the stairs to her own chamber. Not long now until she was free of Alasdair forever.

 **The Hundred Camp, The Cheviot Hills**

Jaha was evidently still pleased with Kane after his success in France, as he received him and Raven straight away, even pouring them a nip of poteen. Kane had already drunk enough, but he took a sip out of politeness.

"What can I do for you, Kane?"

"Before ye sent me to France, when ye found out about my relationship with Lady Griffin, ye said ye were going to think about how best to exploit it."

Jaha sat back, appraising Kane. "I did. I hope you're not here to talk me out of it?"

"Not at all. May I?" Kane indicated a seat opposite Jaha, who nodded his assent. Kane pulled the chair out, sat down. Raven remained standing, just behind Kane, her hand on the back of his chair. "I was thinking, that perhaps we could work together, to our mutual benefit?"

"How so?"

"I have come into possession of some interesting papers. They contain information that could incriminate Lord Griffin."

Jaha leaned forward now, arms resting on the table, hands pressed together. "Really?"

"Aye. Are ye interested?"

"Well, that depends on what they say."

Kane turned slightly towards Raven. She rubbed her fingers against his back as a signal he should continue.

"They show that Lord Griffin has been defrauding the King."

Jaha wasn't a man to show emotion; he was able to keep a straight face no matter what he was thinking, but even he couldn't hide his shock at Kane's revelation.

"He's defrauding the King? How? Are you certain?"

"He's undervaluing the King's land and then buying it from him cheaply. The papers are proof."

"This is most interesting, Kane. You have the papers here?"

This was where Raven had urged caution when they had discussed their approach on the way over to the meeting. Kane had hidden the papers. He wanted Jaha's help, but there was no way he was trusting the man with the precious evidence.

"I do not have them with me, but I assure thee they exist. Ye have to trust me."

"You have made it extremely difficult to trust you recently, especially where Lady Griffin is concerned."

"I know, and I am sorry for that, but this is a golden opportunity, Sir. Ye don't want to miss out."

"Let's assume I do trust you, and these papers say what you allege. What do you want me to do about it?"

Kane took a deep breath. Everything depended on Jaha's response to what he was about to tell him. There was no guarantee he would consent to using his friend in this way, but Kane had known the man long enough to know that he would find it difficult to turn down the chance of a title, of a place in society at last. It was up to him to make Jaha see that the benefits outweighed the negatives.

"We can't trust any of the officials in the Borders. There's no doubt from what I've seen that Alasdair has most of them in his pocket."

"So, you want me to blackmail him? For money?"

"No, Sir. I want him to face justice, and I need yer help to do it."

"I don't see how I can help with justice. We live on the wrong side of the law, as you well know."

"Yes, well. I heard ye were friends with the Warden of the East Marches."

"Did you?"

"Aye. And I wondered if ye would be willing to show him the papers, persuade him to inform the King."

Jaha stood up, walked around the room, not speaking, or even looking at Kane. Kane looked at Raven. She put her finger to her lips, so Kane did not speak, as tempted as he was to fill the silence. At last, Jaha spoke.

"My friendship with the Warden is a closely-guarded secret. I wonder how you know about it." He looked at Raven who stared back at him, a blank look on her face. Kane had to admire her bravery, or bravado more like. "It is a finely-balanced relationship going back many years. I am not in a mind to jeopardise it so that you can get revenge on a man who has wronged you."

"It is not about revenge," said Kane.

"That is precisely what it is. This man had your brother's wife, ruined your life, and now you mean to wreak your vengeance on him and use me to do it. I will not have it."

"Justice and vengeance are not the same thing, Sir. If I wanted vengeance I would do to him what he has done to others, and believe me I have wanted to many times. I have wanted it so badly I have killed him over and over again in my dreams. I want him to face justice, to have his crimes known to the world. He cannot be tried for what he has done to the many women he has abused, but he can face justice for the crimes he has done against the King, and that is good enough for me."

Jaha shook his head. "The crimes of one overfed, rich man against another are of no interest to me. Where is the gain for me? If I am to use a long-standing relationship it needs to be worth it."

"There will be a reward from the King when he finds out the extent of the crimes against him. You remember what happened to Lord Tain. He was caught plotting against the King and the man who turned him in was awarded a title, and land of his own. That could happen to you, Sir."

"So, I am to get a title and land and what do you get out of this, Kane? What's in it for you?"

"I get to rid the world of a man who is a blight on humanity who rapes and abuses women, ill treats them, and who treads all over anyone who crosses his path, man or woman, Lord or servant."

"You do know you're a member of a clan of reivers that have committed crimes of exactly the nature you describe?"

"Aye, but not under my command."

"No. I suppose not. You are forgetting to mention one thing that you will get out of this. And I think this is your true motive, despite all your high and mighty principles of justice."

Kane knew Jaha was referring to Abby. He had wanted to mention her as little as possible, keep her as far away from this business as he could.

"And what is that?"

"The Lady. You get the Lady, Kane. Once Lord Griffin is out of the way, there is nothing to stop your pursuit of Lady Abigail, is there?"

"Sir, I cannot deny that she is a consideration in this, but she is not my only motive. I have evidence of crimes committed against the King. I want Lord Griffin to face justice. Whatever happens after that is in the hands of the gods."

Jaha stroked his chin, his lips were pursed tight, his features twisted as he thought everything through.

"Land and a title, you say?"

"Aye, Sir. At the very least. Ye could leave this life behind, be a Laird. Who knows, ye might even be gifted Lord Griffin's lands, and he owns a lot, most of the Border country."

"Very well. I will speak to the Warden, but I cannot guarantee he will be interested."

"Thank you, Sir. That is all I can ask of thee."

"Yes. You are dismissed."

Kane rose from the chair and headed to the door, relief flooding his veins.

"Oh, Raven?" Jaha spoke just as Kane's hand was on the door handle. "I won't be needing you on any trips for a while. A long while."

Raven bowed her head. "No, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

Jaha nodded, and Kane and Raven opened the door, heading out into the late Autumn sun. Raven gave Kane a brief hug.

"We did it!"

"We don't know for certain yet. He has to speak to the Warden, and the Warden may not be interested."

"Not interested! Come on, Kane. This is the biggest tale the Warden will ever have heard. There will be rewards for everyone involved, including yerself."

"I don't want a reward. There's only one thing I want out of this."

"Aye, and she will be with thee soon enough."

"Ye need to go to her, Raven. I promised her I would send thee. Tell her what has happened, that I will be meeting the Warden, and it will all be over soon."

"I'll send her yer love."

"Aye. Please. Do that. I'll make sure everything goes to plan. Tell her not to worry."

"I'll tell her, but ye know Abby. She'll worry until she sees this handsome face of yers again." Raven gave Kane a kiss on the cheek. "Be safe. Don't do anything stupid, or risky."

Kane smiled. "Ye know me, Raven. Safety first."

Raven shook her head, then left to pack for the journey. Kane stood in the courtyard, looking around at the humble dwellings, the dirty, smelly place he called home. Change was in the air, he could smell it, crisp and fresh, the scent of renewal, and promise. He had put something in motion that was about to change all their lives, and there were no guarantees it would be for the better. It was the right thing to do, though; he felt that in his heart. Whatever happened, getting rid of Alasdair, freeing Abby, would be worth it.


	14. Et Tu?

It took four long, torturous days for Jaha to summon Kane to his dwelling. Kane had checked and rechecked the papers so much in that time they were starting to look dog-eared. In the end, he had forced himself to leave them alone by putting them in a tin box and burying them in the woods. Blake had sent him a message telling him that Abby was effectively under house arrest but was safe and Alasdair did not appear to suspect anything. That had been a huge relief to Kane. He did not stop thinking about Abby but knowing she was safe meant he could put her to the back of his mind, and concentrate on the task ahead. He had decided that he was not entrusting the papers to Jaha, no matter what the man said. Kane wouldn't be happy until he was putting the papers into the hands of the Warden of the East Marches himself.

Jaha was seated at his desk when Kane entered. He gestured for Kane to come forward but did not invite him to sit.

"I have spoken with the Warden."

"Thank ye, Sir."

"He was most interested in the papers, and has agreed to a meeting."

"This is wonderful news, Sir." Kane was delighted. He hadn't been as certain as Raven that the Warden would welcome a visit from reivers, but evidently the papers were too valuable an opportunity to pass up.

"He wants to meet you, to discuss what you know of Lord Griffin's dealings in person."

This was even better news. Kane thought he would have had a fight on his hands to prevent Jaha from going alone with the papers, but the Warden had pre-empted that discussion with his request to see Kane.

"I will be there, of course," Jaha continued. "To make the introductions."

Kane nodded. "Of course, Sir. When is the meeting to take place?"

"The day after tomorrow. At Lightwater Castle."

"Near Berwick? That is a dangerous journey, Sir." Lightwater Castle was a new fortification on the Scottish side of the border but close to the English town of Berwick upon Tweed. It sat on an island, accessible only via a causeway at low tide. It was a full day's ride away, right through the heart of the border country. Kane was a wanted man, by the Scots and the English. He didn't relish the thought of such a journey.

"You will have safe passage. The Warden has guaranteed it. It would still be better to travel at night, though."

"Aye, Sir. When shall we leave?"

"I will not be coming with you. I have other business to attend en route so I will meet you there."

"Very well." Kane turned to leave.

"Kane."

"Sir?"

"Be on your best behaviour when you meet the Warden. This is a valuable relationship to me. Don't fuck it up."

"I won't, Sir. I am thankful to thee for arranging it."

Jaha nodded his head in dismissal and Kane left. A sense of euphoria overtook him, and he punched the air with his fist as he walked across the courtyard to his own dwelling. Things were moving forward at last. He could taste the anticipation; it was cold, and set his teeth on edge, like biting into a coin to test its metal.

 **Near the Isle of Light, Berwickshire**

Kane was camped in an old stone barn just outside Wigton, a farmstead about a mile from the causeway that led across the sea to the Isle of Light and Lightwater Castle. He had arrived in the early hours of the morning, cold and wet from riding through the night in the rain, and had been grateful to find the barn, even though it had a door open to the elements and a roof that was more sky than timber. There was a pile of old straw in the corner, and he had burrowed into it to get warm and wait for low tide, which was due just after sunrise. He had slept fitfully, his dreams more like nightmares with Abby being caught by Sinclair when she tried to put his keys back. In the cold light of day he knew she was safe, that she had returned the keys without incident because Blake had told him, but in the dark of the night, with the rain slamming against the walls and the wind howling through the rafters, he had been filled with a great fear. The feeling lingered as he pulled on his damp clothes and fed some straw to his horse. He was annoyed, because this was going to be a great day, the day when they got rid of Abby's husband for good, without shedding any blood. He should be happy, and confident, but instead he felt trepidation. It was only natural, he supposed; it was an important day, the biggest day of his life.

The skies were as grey as his mood, but at least it had stopped raining, and he mounted his horse to set off towards the causeway just as the sun grazed the horizon. There was no magnificent sunrise, just a gradual lifting of the gloom. Soon, he could see the island lying ahead, a dark sliver trapped between the twin greys of sky and sea. His confidence returned with every step of the horse towards his goal. He pulled up when they reached the head of the causeway. It was as though the sea had parted, to reveal a ridge of sand not much wider than a carriage and four horses. The ridge undulated as it crossed the sea to the island and tell-tale shimmers half-way along told Kane that it wasn't fully passable yet. He waited, and watched as the tide lowered, and the mudflats slowly revealed themselves. Seabirds gathered and stalked the flats, redshanks and oystercatchers, stabbing their sharp beaks into the mud to hunt for the worms, cockles and razor shells that now had no sea water to shelter them.

At last, the causeway was clear, and Kane urged his horse forward. There was only the sound of the birds cawing and screeching to accompany their journey. Kane's horse struggled as they crossed, each step sinking into the sand which was waterlogged, but the island got closer, and Kane knew the return journey would be easier as the sand dried and hardened. When they reached the island, Kane looked back. The sea was disappearing, the mudflats taking over, shiny and new. It would not be like that for long. He had five hours until the causeway became impassable again. That should be plenty of time to meet the Warden and discuss the papers, hatch out a plan.

He followed the old pilgrims' path as it skirted the coast, the sand dunes giving way to cottongrass and heather. Ahead of him, across a small bay, sat Lightwater Priory, a site of worship for over a thousand years, and a place of refuge since King Henry the Eighth of England had destroyed the English priories just a few years after Kane's birth. Kane veered off the path as he rounded the bay. He had been promised safe passage but his years with the Hundred clan had taught him caution and he didn't want to risk getting too close to the Priory and the small village surrounding it. He couldn't be sure that everyone living there was loyal to the Warden. He urged his horse across green fields, jumping over hedges and stone walls until he was on the opposite side of the small island. The castle sat on a rocky outcrop above the shore to the south of him. He dropped down to the coast again, skirting the edges of the mudflats until he picked up a path that would lead him to the eastern side of the castle.

He pulled up at a stone gatehouse. The castle reared up ahead of him, hewn out of the red-grey whinstone and accessible only by a steep, twisting staircase cut out of the rock. A soldier came out of the gatehouse, imposing in his bright red jacket and silver helmet that obscured most of his face except for his eyes, which bored into Kane. He stood with one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, the other holding a pike, a fearsome-looking weapon that was like a metal axe head on top of a wooden shaft. It was almost twice the height of the soldier. He rested his weight against the shaft as he spoke.

"What's yer business here?"

"I'm here to see the Warden. My name is Marcus Kane, of Weatherton in Dumfriesshire. The Warden is expecting me."

The soldier sniffed. "The Warden isnae here yet."

"Are ye expecting him?"

"Aye."

"I am meeting another man as well, by the name of Jaha. Is he here yet?"

"No one else has been through yet today. Ye are the first."

That was not surprising to Kane. Jaha could not have crossed to the island before Kane that morning because the tide was in. He was unlikely to have arrived the previous night because he had business to attend to.

"May I wait inside?" Rain was starting to fall again and Kane wasn't keen on getting wet for the second time that day. He was still damp from the previous soaking.

"I suppose. Ye'll have tae leave yer horse in the stable just beyond. This man will take ye up to the castle." He indicated another soldier who was standing just inside the gatehouse. "Do ye have any weapons on ye?"

"Just my ballack knife," replied Kane.

"Ye don't mind if we don't take yer word for that." The soldier in the gatehouse patted Kane down, checking his jacket pockets and his socks for hidden weapons. Kane was grateful he had left the two necklaces in the box buried in the woods. He didn't trust these soldiers not to steal them. "Leave yer knife in yer saddlebag and ye can enter the castle."

Kane did as instructed, then followed the soldier up the steps and through the heavy wooden door into the castle itself. He was taken into a large sparsely-furnished room with a fireplace so large at one end of it, Kane fancied he could fit in it whilst sat on his horse. The walls were whitewashed stone but there were no decorations, no rich tapestries or portraits like there were in Abby's house at Duns. The only furniture consisted of two winged-back chairs upholstered in a material of rich red and gold and a large polished oak table on which sat a candelabra holding six fat, cream-coloured candles. Kane felt too dirty and scruffy to sit on one of the fine chairs so he remained standing. The fire wasn't lit in the enormous fireplace and the room was cold. He shivered, and pulled his jacket tighter around him. He hoped Jaha wouldn't be long so that they could conclude their business and he could return to camp.

While he waited, he thought about his father, and whether he would be willing to receive his wayward younger son once the truth was known. Perhaps if Kane went before him with Abby as his bride, the wife Lord Robert had always wanted for him, his father would see that he had changed, was ready to settle down, be a good man, a loving husband, dutiful son. He suspected even that wouldn't be good enough to wipe away twenty-five years of rebellious behaviour on his part, though. His mother had been killed in an ambush by reivers when he and James were young men, and the family was never the same after that. She was the linchpin that held them all together, and when she died there was no counterbalance to their father's strictness. While his mother was alive, Kane had been the serious child, the one who needed rules and boundaries, who had a well-defined sense of right and wrong. James had been the frivolous one, blonde and handsome, with the world at his feet. After their mother died, they swapped roles, James bearing the responsibility of eldest son and heir, supportive to their father, a man to be relied upon. Kane had gambled and whored his way around the borders, shunning all responsibility, wanting only to enjoy life, because it was short, and could be taken from him at any moment. And now he was a reiver, one of the very kind of men who had murdered his mother. It would probably be a cold day in hell before Lord Robert Kane welcomed the black sheep back into the fold, but Kane had to try, for Abby's sake. She deserved a good life, better than he could give her as an outlaw always on the run. He allowed himself to slip into a reverie about what life would be like if he and Abby were able to be together, whether it be as Lord and Lady Kane or in some more humble worker's life.

Kane didn't know how much time had passed while he was daydreaming, but his legs were aching from standing, and when he looked out of the narrow slit in the wall that functioned as a window the sky was grey and heavy with rain. There was no sun to guide him, but experience told him it was getting towards midday, and that meant only an hour or two remained for him to get back to the causeway and safely away before the tide covered it again. He shifted his weight onto his other leg and continued to wait. He wasn't too concerned about what had happened to Jaha or the Warden. Rich men liked to keep other people waiting; it reinforced their power and their belief in their superiority. Kane had seen it happen many times in his life. He wasn't Marcus Kane, son of Lord Robert Kane of Dumfriesshire to the Warden; he was a dirty, lowdown thief and ne'er-do-well, and was to be treated as such.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, Kane finally heard footsteps on the stairs. He straightened his back, smoothed down his kilt, and tried to make himself as presentable as he could. He tapped his pouch, reassuring himself once again that the papers were there. He took a deep breath. The next phase of his life was about to begin, and he was ready.

The door opened with a creak and Jaha walked in. Kane smiled, glad that he was here at last.

"It is good to see thee, Sir."

Jaha did not return Kane's smile; in fact, he didn't even look at him as he walked into the room and over towards the fireplace. Kane frowned, his happiness turning to uncertainty. Perhaps the Warden had changed his mind after all. Kane looked to the stairs where a second set of footsteps was echoing off the walls. The man who walked through the door was not the Warden of the East Marches, however. Kane didn't know what the Warden looked like but he didn't need to know because the man standing in front of him, his arms crossed, and a smug look on his face was all too familiar to him. Fear ran though Kane's veins, turning his blood ice cold as Alasdair Griffin walked towards him, stopping just a sword's length away.

"We meet again."

Kane was speechless. He looked at Jaha, who glanced up at him and then away.

"What is going on?" That was all Kane could think of to say, and it was a stupid question because it was perfectly obvious what was going on. Jaha had betrayed him.

"What's going on," said Lord Griffin, "is that you have been lured into a trap and now you are captured, like the animal you are."

Kane moved to run towards the open door but Alasdair drew his sword and held the point of it against Kane's chest.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. If I don't run you through first, there are soldiers outside the door, and at the bottom of the stairs, in fact all around the castle. You will be dead before you see the light of day again."

Kane stepped back, away from the point of the sword. He held his hands up to indicate he was not going to run.

"What do you want?"

"Well, you, obviously. You are under arrest, in case you had not realised that."

"There is no Sheriff here," said Kane.

"I don't need a Sheriff. I have a signed warrant for your capture, and I'm the Laird of the borders, as you now know. Everyone works for me."

So Jaha had told Alasdair about the papers, and he was here to get them back. Kane wished he didn't have them on his person. They would have made a good bargaining chip for his release if he had hidden them, but he had not been expecting an ambush. Jaha's betrayal was a complete surprise. What was he getting out of this? And more to the point, had he told Alasdair about Abby? Kane decided to play this as he had told Abby, by saying as little as possible. Let Alasdair reveal his hand, and act accordingly.

"Jaha here tells me you have something that belongs to me. Something you stole."

Kane remained silent, not tempted to look at Jaha, just staring into Alasdair's eyes. The man was loathsome. He tried to calculate whether he could overpower him before he had chance to use his sword. Alasdair was fat and heavy. He would be slow to react. Kane was certain he could get his sword away from him and slit his throat with it before the man knew what was happening. Of course, he would die himself shortly afterwards when the soldiers came running in, but it would be worth it. Abby would be free.

"Silence is not going to help you," Alasdair continued. If you do not speak to me, if you don't tell me how you got the papers, I will have to assume everyone in my household helped you, from the Heid of my Guard to my lowliest servant. They will all join you on the gallows."

Kane knew he had no choice but to give Alasdair some information. He wasn't going to let other people die because of him.

"No one helped me. I staked out yer house. Watched the comings and goings. It was easy enough to break in once I knew the routine."

Alasdair lowered his sword, letting the tip of it scrape along the floor, which Kane thought was a stupid thing to do. It would blunt it, render it useless.

"The papers were well hidden. I find it difficult to believe you found them easily."

"It was not easy," replied Kane, "but I am thorough, and persistent. It's why I'm good at my job."

"Your job!" Alasdair spat the words out with contempt. "You talk as though you are gainfully employed. You are nothing but a common thief."

"It takes one to know one."

Alasdair took a step closer to Kane. Keep coming, thought Kane. A few more steps and I'll have yer sword before ye can blink.

"I am nothing like you," sneered Alasdair.

"No? Ye have stolen from the King have ye not? The papers are proof."

"To be proof, they have to exist, and you and them will be history soon enough."

"That may be so, but there's a lot of noise I can make before that happens, and I am not the only one who knows about yer corruption."

Alasdair laughed. "If you're talking about others in your sorry clan, no one's going to believe a group of rapists and thieves over a respected Laird."

"We all know who's the real rapist here." The words were out before Kane realised he'd said them, and he regretted them instantly.

Alasdair bristled. He stood up straight, raised himself to his full height, which was a good three of four inches taller than Kane.

"What did you say?"

If Kane could have bitten his tongue out he would have done. There was nothing to be done now except to see this through to its end.

"Ye know exactly what I said."

"You have some nerve calling me a rapist when you took my wife and defiled her while I was right there!"

"It was only in revenge for what thee had done to my brother's wife."

Alasdair looked at Jaha. "You may leave us."

"Are you sure that's wise, Sir?" said Jaha. "Kane is not a man to be trusted. You shouldn't be alone with him."

"Ha!" said Kane. "Says the betrayer. Ye're finished, Jaha. Once the clan hears what ye've done to me, they'll never follow thee again."

"The clan won't be a concern of yours or mine soon."

Kane shook his head. "Ye think I'm not trustworthy. I've only ever done yer bidding. I've been loyal, given ye everything ye've ever asked me for. If ye think this man is worthy of yer trust then ye're an idiot. Whatever he's promised thee, ye'll never see it. I guarantee it."

"Get out, Jaha," said Alasdair, his voice rising.

Jaha walked out of the door, leaving Kane and Alasdair alone.

Alasdair closed the door, stood against it. Kane was still near the window. The gap between them had widened. Was Alasdair scared? Did he sense that Kane was planning to snatch his sword, kill them both rather than let Alasdair live? He wasn't certain.

"She wanted it, you know."

"Who did?"

"The lovely Alice. Begged me for it."

Kane bunched his hands into fists, dug his nails into his skin. Alasdair was trying to bait him, and he was damned if he would let him.

"That must be why she was crying when I found her?"

"Women are tricky. She conned you, Kane."

"She was covered in blood ye sick fuck!"

Alasdair stepped forward again, closer to Kane. He whispered, as though they were co-conspirators. "She likes it rough. Lots of women do."

"Not like that! Not there! Not where ye had her."

"Well, I don't want women coming to me claiming their bastards are mine, taking my money, my land."

The man was insane, thought Kane. How had he hidden this from so many people for so long? Or was he finally coming unhinged, now that his secrets were unravelling before his eyes?

"Are ye sure ye can have children, bastards or no? I heard ye've not managed to get a child on yer wife these past fifteen years." Kane sent a silent apology to Abby for using her in this way, but he wanted to goad Alasdair and it was working.

"You fuck!" Alasdair lunged at Kane, meaning to hit him across the face, but Kane ducked, and grabbed Alasdair's sword as he spun round past him, ending up closest to the door. He held the sword at Alasdair's chest, poked the point in harder than had been done to him, drawing blood that stained the front of Alasdair's shirt.

"We're going to leave here, now. I'm going to hold this sword at yer throat, and if anyone tries to attack me, I'll slit ye from ear to ear, and the last thing ye'll hear as ye depart this life, is me laughing. Is that clear?"

Alasdair nodded, and Kane opened the door, got behind Alasdair with the sword at his throat, and went through to the stairwell. The soldier on duty went to grab his own sword. Kane held his weapon tighter against Alasdair's throat, drawing a few drops of blood that dripped onto the man's collar.

"Tell him to let us past."

"Do as the man says," said Alasdair.

They descended the stairs slowly. There was another soldier at the foot of the stairs guarding the exit. He stood aside as Kane and Alasdair approached.

"Open the door," said Kane, and Alasdair complied, turning the heavy metal ring. Grey light and sheets of rain came in. There were no soldiers that Kane could see outside. Alasdair must have been bluffing about how many men he had brought to the castle, or else they were sheltering. Kane withdrew his sword from Alasdair's neck as they reached the steep stone steps that led down to the stable, and Kane's horse. He put the sword against Alasdair's back instead, pushing him down the steps with it. When they reached the bottom, Alasdair slipped and fell. Kane dragged him into the stable, propping him against a haybale while he untethered his horse. When he was ready to leave, he poked Alasdair with the sword. The temptation to run him through was strong, so strong, but he had promised Abby he wouldn't kill him, so he resisted. Alasdair didn't realise that, though.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"No. I'm going to take these papers directly to the King myself, and let him deal with thee. Don't get too comfortable." He hit Alasdair in the stomach with the handle of the sword, and the man cried out in pain and doubled over, clutching his stomach. Kane told himself it was to prevent Alasdair following him, but he got a great deal of satisfaction from seeing him red in the face, blood on his shirt, crying in pain.

"Don't try to follow me," he said. He mounted his horse and tucked Alasdair's sword into his saddle. He avoided the gatehouse, picking his way along the rocky shore instead, jumping over a fence and out into the sea. Alasdair shouted something to him, but only the sound reached Kane, the shape of the words was taken away on the wind. Kane raced along the shore towards the priory. He didn't have time to avoid it now; the tide was closing in and it was three long miles until the start of the causeway. This was no time to go the long way around. He could hear shouts behind him, and turned to see soldiers on horseback chasing after him, their red coats the only point of colour in the bleak landscape. Kane urged his horse on. The sea was swirling around them, the pilgrims' path no longer visible, only the tops of the heather and cottongrass poking out above the water. The causeway was visible in the distance, a strip of orange in a sea of grey. Kane raced towards it, the sea splashing up around him, the rain soaking him from above. The soldiers were gaining on him, their horses' long legs covering the ground quicker than his small nag could do.

"Come on, come on," Kane shouted to his horse. His legs were tired from squeezing the horse's flanks, his face stung from the rain that was coming horizontally now, driven by the strong wind. He could barely see. He kept his head down, and carried on. He imagined Abby standing on the other end of the causeway waiting for him. She was smiling, wearing that blue dress with the mother of pearl buttons he had so admired in the market place in Kelso. It wasn't raining on the other side of the causeway in his fantasy. "I'm coming, Abby," he shouted into the wind. When he reached the causeway he could no longer see it. He could only tell the route from the wooden marker posts that were placed at regular intervals along it. He headed out between them. The water was swirling around the horse's ankles, but it was not too deep. He was certain they could make it. He urged the horse forward, but he had forgotten about the undulating nature of the causeway, and after a short stretch the sea was up to the horse's knees, and he slowed, until he came to a stop, refusing to go any further. Kane urged him on, patted him, squeezed him, whispered into his ears, but it was to no avail. He turned around. A line of soldiers was flanked along the shoreline, red coats flapping in the wind, silver helmets flashing as a storm brewed, and lightning split the sky, followed by a huge clap of thunder that made Kane's horse rear up. At the head of the line of soldiers sat Alasdair astride a huge bay horse.

"Give it up, Kane. You can't go any further, you'll only drown yourself and your horse."

Kane hesitated. Would it be such a bad thing if he drowned in the sea now, before Alasdair got to him? He thought of Abby waiting for him. How would she feel if she heard he'd killed himself? She would not see it as a sacrifice; she would think he had left her to fend for herself with that monster of a husband. No, it was better to face Alasdair, and take whatever was to come. As long as he was alive, there was hope, and as Abby had said, hope was everything. He turned his horse and waded back to the shore. The soldiers dragged him off his horse and he fell face first onto the wet sand. Alasdair came forward, grabbed Kane's arms behind his back and cuffed them together.

"Marcus Kane. You are under arrest for crimes against the King and his subjects, including but not limited to theft, kidnapping, rape, assault and treason. Take him away."

One of the soldiers lifted Kane to his feet, and forced him onto a horse before getting up behind him. They turned and made their way back towards the castle.

On arrival, Kane was taken downstairs rather than up, and was flung into a cell in the dungeon. The dungeon was beneath the castle, below sea level, and the walls were wet, and slimy with mould. The cell had bars along one side, but there were no windows and it was dark; the only light coming from candles lighting the hallway. The air was stale and musty, and had a foetid smell of excrement and rotting seaweed. It made Kane want to vomit, but he held it down. He had no desire to add to the filth, and he didn't know how long he would be kept here. It was not his first time in a cell, and he had suffered under some cruel gaolers before, but none as evil as Alasdair Griffin. Kane suspected the man would want his pound of flesh before handing him over to the Sheriff to be tried in Edinburgh. Kane's clothes were still wet through and he was shackled to the wall, so he couldn't move far to try and warm up. He still had his pouch with him, so he manoeuvred it behind him and curled up on the damp stone floor, his head resting on the hard leather of his pouch, and tried to sleep. Rats scurried around him but he ignored them. He expected Alasdair would leave him here a few days, without food or water, in order to suppress his will. Kane was used to not eating, though, and there was enough water sliding down the walls to slake his thirst. It was salty, but if he only wet his lips with it, he would survive. He wasn't going to let Alasdair Griffin break him.

In the end, the guards turned up for him sooner than he expected. There was no natural light to tell him what was day or night but Kane trusted his internal body clock, and was certain that no more than two days had passed since he was put into the cell. He was unshackled from the wall and chained again before being dragged out of his cell. He was pushed up the steps into a chamber that was one of a series of rooms, storerooms by the look of the barrels and wooden chests that were stacked along the walls. He was above ground because light flooded in through leaded windows. From the angle of the shadows cast he could tell it was past midday. The roof of the chamber was low, and timbered with oak. The guards pushed Kane up against one of the windows, and held his hands up as they attached the shackles to hooks in the wooden beam either side of his head. So he was to be tortured. It made sense. A man who beat his own wife with a hot poker would have no qualms about brutalising someone like Kane. Kane tried to prepare himself mentally. What did Alasdair want to know? There must be something, unless this was all for his own sadistic pleasure.

The door opened but it wasn't Alasdair who entered, it was Jaha. Kane strained at his bonds, trying to get to the man.

"Ye've got a bloody nerve coming in here, Jaha."

"Yes, well. Lord Griffin will be here shortly, but I wanted to see you first."

"While I can still breathe, ye mean? What do ye want?"

"You are strong, you'll get through it. He won't kill you. He wants you to hang, to make an example of you. He can't do that if you die in here with no one but the rats to see."

"If ye've come here to comfort me ye're doing a crap job. Why did ye give me up? Tae him of all people."

"You know why. I'm an opportunist. Always have been. And you gave me an opportunity too good to miss. Why give Alasdair to the Warden with no guarantee of reward, when I can give you to the man who hates you, and claim the reward and a generous donation of land and money from the soon-to-be Sir Alasdair Griffin?"

Kane shook his head. "He won't honour his promise, that's a guarantee for ye."

"Oh, he will, because while I kept you stewing at camp over whether the Warden would see you or not, I gathered some excellent intelligence on Lord Griffin, with sworn testimonies, and if he doesn't pay up, he will suffer the consequences."

"Ye're a bastard, Jaha. Ye'll need the money, because the clan won't take thee back now."

"I'm done with the clan life. I've got more than enough to lead a good life. Lord Griffin is even considering giving up Arkholm Tower, and that would suit me very well."

Jaha turned to leave but Kane called him back.

"Did ye tell him about Lady Abigail, and me?" Kane was scared to know the answer to this, because if Alasdair knew, then what had he been doing in the two days since he captured Kane? Duns House was less than half a day's ride from the Isle of Light. Had he already got to Abby? Was that what he was going to torture Kane about?

Jaha came closer. "I am not stupid, Kane. I am not going to show my best hand right at the start of the game. No. I'm keeping that information until the time is right, and if you're thinking you can get the clan to exact revenge on me, I would think twice. I don't have to tell you that Lord Griffin would get great satisfaction out of hanging Lady Abigail before you, and making you watch."

"Get out, Jaha!"

Jaha left and Kane pulled at his chains, trying to dislodge them. The shackles were iron, and strong, but the wood was old, and weak. He could feel it starting to give. If he could get free before Alasdair arrived, he could wait for him behind the door, strangle him with the chain and make a break for freedom through the window. The wood creaked above him as the nails holding the hooks in started to inch forward, and the wood began to splinter. It was hard work pulling while his hands were above his head; he was losing strength, but not determination. He hadn't managed to get the nails more than half way out when the door opened again and Alasdair walked in with two men, one of whom was Blake. Kane was shocked to see him. Was this another betrayal? Blake didn't speak but he gave the briefest of nods, as though in reassurance. Kane was starting to realise how Abby must have felt when she thought she was his revenge, not knowing who to trust, thinking everyone had betrayed her. If he ever got out of this mess he would not stop making that up to her for the rest of his life.

"Marcus Kane." Alasdair tapped a long, fat wooden club on the floor and contemplated Kane, looking him up and down. He was enjoying having an audience, Kane could tell. "The Grey Wolf." He took a slow, deep breath. "You are not such a menace now, are you?"

"It is hard to be when I am tied up and caged. Take these chains off, let us be on equal terms, and we shall see how menacing I am then."

Alasdair laughed. "You and I can never be on equal terms. You gave up that right when you raped your brother's wife."

"We both know that wasn't me." Kane could see Blake stand straighter as he absorbed this news.

"Well, now see, it doesn't matter what you and I know, it only matters what the people know, and you confessed to it. Not only that, I have witness statements from that very night, implicating you."

"The people who matter, know the truth," said Kane, looking at Blake.

"Not your father, not your brother. You're going to die a disgrace in their eyes."

"I am not a disgrace in my own eyes."

Alasdair walked up to Kane and slapped him across the face. Kane's head snapped to the side. It stung, but he'd had worse. He looked back at Alasdair.

"You're a complete disgrace. You expect people to believe you didn't rape your brother's wife when you raped MY wife, and everyone on my staff knows it. She confessed it."

There was so much Kane wanted to say, but couldn't, because it would implicate Abby.

"Do you deny it?" continued Alasdair.

Kane shook his head. "No."

"No. You took her into the brush, you made her lay down and you forced yourself on her, put that dirty cock of yours inside her, didn't you?"

Kane thought Alasdair was getting too much pleasure from this line of questioning, as though he liked the thought of Kane hurting his wife. He didn't want to pander to the man's sick desires any more than he had to, so he kept his answer simple.

"Yes."

"And yet you're not a disgrace in your own eyes. Well you are to me."

Alasdair raised the club, took a big swing, and hit Kane flat in the stomach with it. Kane was expecting it, so he tensed his muscles to make his stomach hard, but the force of it was so great it pushed him back towards the wall, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped but couldn't get any air because his diaphragm was in shock and had forgotten how to breathe. Kane felt light-headed, his legs started to buckle, and he sagged, his weight pulling on his wrists, making the iron rings cut into his flesh. He continued gasping, and eventually his body started to work again and some air flowed back into his lungs, giving him enough strength to pull himself upright.

"Ye're a big man, Alasdair, hitting a man who cannae defend himself," Kane said.

"You're no man. You're an animal."

"I'm an animal! Are ye forgetting where I found the papers that incriminate thee? What they were underneath?"

Alasdair looked around at his guards. Blake was doing a good job of looking disinterested, staring straight ahead, not moving, but his face was pale, his eyes large and dark.

"Those were gifts to my wife from admirers who were too presumptuous. I didn't see fit to give them to her."

"Really? Yer wife's admirers gave her lockets with their children's hair in, and plain bands made of base metal? I think not."

"I don't give a fuck what you think. You have no proof of any of this, and as soon as you give me the papers, that will be the end of it."

"I'm not helping thee. If ye want the papers, ye'll have tae find them."

Alasdair turned to Blake. "Search him."

Blake stepped forward, patted Kane down, as the soldiers had done to him when he first arrived at the castle what seemed like a lifetime ago. Blake mouthed a "sorry" to Kane as he searched him. So he hadn't betrayed him; he was just following his orders. Maybe he would be useful later.

When he had finished his search, Blake stepped back. "There is nothing on his person, My Lord."

Alasdair sighed. "Where's his pouch? He must have one. Go and check his cell."

Blake and the other guard left and Alasdair was left alone with Kane. He kept his distance, no doubt remembering what happened last time he let Kane get too close to him.

"I see you," said Kane.

"Do you?"

"Aye. Ye're a coward, who gets off on abusing people who are weaker than thee, who can't fight back."

"You know nothing about me."

"Oh, I do. If ye had any balls, ye'd face me man to man, but ye can't because ye know I'd beat thee."

"From where I'm standing, I'm beating you well enough."

"Only because I'm tied up. I know everything ye've done, all the servants ye've abused, the women ye've raped, and beaten. Why do ye do it? Does it make ye feel more of a man? Do ye have a tiny cock, or is it because ye're firing blanks?"

Kane knew he was going to get a beating for those remarks but he didn't care. He couldn't help himself, couldn't resist taunting this odious man. Alasdair hit him in the stomach again but with the end of the club this time, and Kane retched. There was nothing in his stomach to come up except some bile, which he spat on the ground. Alasdair raised the club again but before he could swing, the door opened and he lowered the club. Kane was bent double with pain. He could only see Blake's boots as they stopped in front of Alasdair.

"Here is his pouch, My Lord."

"Let us see what is within." Kane raised his head to watch as Alasdair emptied the pouch on the floor. A couple of coins bounced across the stone and a kerchief floated to the ground. A roll of parchment fell out and Alasdair picked it up, unrolled it.

"What is the meaning of this?" He showed the parchment to Kane.

"It is an inventory," said Kane. "Of the clan's assets."

"Where are the papers you stole?" He put his hand in the pouch, ran it around the inside, feeling for hidden pockets. He turned it upside down and shook it. Nothing came out.

Kane remained silent.

"Where the fuck are the papers, Kane?" Alasdair's voice was high, a hint of desperation in it.

"Are they not there?" Kane raised his eyebrows as though he were as surprised as Alasdair.

"You know damn well they are not here." Alasdair raised the stick again. "Tell me where they are or you will suffer the consequences."

"I cannot vouch for what has happened to my belongings whilst I have been parted from them. Jaha was here earlier. Perhaps he has taken them?"

"Jaha was here?"

"Aye. He told me he had good information on thee, perhaps that is where he got it?"

"You are lying."

"Am I?"

Alasdair was red in the face with anger. He dropped the club, came towards Kane and pummelled his body, hitting him over and over again. Kane absorbed the blows as best he could, making himself taut, trying not to flinch. Alasdair gave Kane a good right hook to the face, splitting his lip, bruising his cheek. Blood spurted out of Kane's mouth, misting the air.

"Sir."

Blake stepped forward.

"What?" Alasdair turned on Blake, breathing heavily, sweat dripping off him, spittle flying from his mouth.

"Think of the courts, Sir. Ye want him hanged don't thee? Ye are going to kill him if ye carry on, and then ye won't get the justice ye deserve."

Alasdair wiped his mouth, staring at Kane. "Take him back to his cell." He turned and walked out of the room.

Blake looked at the other guard. "Go with the Master, make sure he is safe. I've got Kane." The guard nodded and followed Alasdair out of the room.

Blake unhooked Kane and held him as he slid to the ground. "I'm sorry, Kane. I didn't know he had captured thee until I got here this morning."

Kane spat blood and saliva onto the floor. He felt in his mouth; he still had all his teeth which was a blessing. His face was sore, his body aching, but he would survive.

"Dinnae worry. I know it's not yer fault."

"I need to take ye back to yer cell. It's just fer now, until I figure out a way to get ye out of here."

Kane grabbed hold of Blake's sleeve. "Don't put yerself at risk because of me. I don't want any more bloodshed."

Blake helped Kane to his feet, put his arm over his shoulder. "If ye think I'm going to let ye die, then ye don't know me." They went back down the stairs, slowly, every step sending a jolt through Kane's battered body. When they reached the cell, Blake put the shackles back on Kane, attached him to the wall.

"Blake. Tell Abby… I'll be alright. Tell her not to worry."

Blake nodded. "I'll be back for thee. Stay strong."

Kane managed a weak smile, and then Blake left, leaving him alone in the semi-darkness. Kane edged over to the wall, prised out the fern-covered stone he had loosened the day before. He put his hand in the crevice, and his fingers touched the parchments. He tapped them for luck, and then replaced the stone, smoothing the fern back down over it. He would die before he let Alasdair Griffin get his hands on them. Let him wonder and worry about where they were, who had them. Maybe his uncertainty would keep Kane alive long enough for Blake to organise a rescue. It was only a spark of hope, but it was enough.


	15. The Past Revisited

CHAPTER FIFTEEN – THE PAST REVISITED

 **Duns House, Berwickshire**

Abby was in her chamber, sitting in her favourite chair by the window, looking out over the grounds of Duns House. A grey mist had settled over the landscape, obscuring most of the view. A few trees loomed out of the mist, like ghostly skeletons of their former selves, and a lone stag stood on a rise, bellowing, his breath clouding the air. She was thinking about Marcus; it had been more than a sevenday since he had left her, and four days since he had gone to the castle to meet with the Warden. She had heard nothing since and was worried. Alasdair had thankfully left again, and he hadn't bothered her while he was here, leaving her to Sinclair, who had come by every day to make sure she was obeying Alasdair's orders to stay in the house. Raven had been worried as well, and had ridden to camp that morning to see if she could find out what had happened to Kane and Jaha. Abby was expecting her back later that night with an update.

There was a knock at the door, and she turned as Sinclair walked in followed by Blake. Blake was ashen-faced and Abby's stomach flipped. He didn't smile at her and she knew immediately something had happened. Whatever it was didn't bother Sinclair as much as it did Blake because his greeting was cheerier than usual.

"Good morning, My Lady!"

Abby somehow managed to form words, though she didn't know how because her throat was dry. "Sinclair."

"Wonderful news, My Lady. The Grey Wolf has been captured!"

It was a good job Abby was sitting down because she was certain she would have fallen down otherwise upon hearing these words. She gripped the arm of her chair to steady herself.

"What do you mean?"

"He has been taken alive, My Lady. Lord Griffin apprehended the monster himself."

Sinclair smiled with pride but Abby was horrified. She could hardly take in the news. Alasdair had captured Marcus! Her worse fears had come true. She looked at Blake, hoping he would say it was all a mistake, knowing that he would not.

"Blake?"

"It is true, Mistress. I have seen him myself."

"You've seen him? Where is he?"

"He is at Lightwater Castle. He has been there four days now."

Sinclair frowned. "What concern is it of yours where he is, My Lady? Ye are not still bothered about what happens to him, surely?" Sinclair knelt before her, took her hands in his. "Forgive me, Mistress, but he is not worth protecting. He has confessed to defiling thee during the raid. He is going to pay for that and all his other crimes."

Abby ignored Sinclair; she only had eyes and ears for Blake. "He has confessed? Why would he do that?"

"Because it is the truth, Mistress." Blake shook his head, while looking at Sinclair, trying to tell her to keep quiet but Abby was beside herself, and was in no mood to be reasonable.

"Was he beaten?"

Blake nodded, and Abby cried out. "Oh!" Visions of Marcus flashed through her mind, curled up in a dirty prison, bloodied and bruised. She had to do something, try to save him somehow.

Sinclair stood up; put his hands on his hips. "What is going on, here?"

"Sir, I think the Mistress is unwell. Perhaps we should leave her to rest."

"The Mistress is not unwell, Blake. She is upset, over a captured reiver who has confessed to using her in a most disgusting manner. I am at a loss to explain yer attitude, My Lady."

Abby got up from the chair, crossed to where Blake was standing. She turned to face Sinclair. "He has not used me, Sinclair. I have been willing."

"Mistress." Blake put his hand on Abby's arm.

"No, Blake. It is time he knew the truth. We need help if we are to free Marcus."

"He is yer husband's man, Mistress."

"He was Jacob's first, and he doesn't know who he is dealing with. At least, I hope he doesn't."

Sinclair was staring at them both, shock and confusion on his face. "Will ye stop talking about me as though I'm not here, and tell me what is going on! Ye were willing to be raped, My Lady? I do not understand thee."

"No. I was never raped. He never had me that day, he just pretended to."

"Why?"

"Because he is a good man, Sinclair. I know that is hard for you to understand, but if you let me tell you the tale, I think you will come to see the truth of it."

Sinclair sighed. "This is most disturbing, My Lady."

"You are right; it is a disturbing story. Will you let me tell it?"

"Aye. Ye have piqued my interest, I cannot deny. Ye may not like my response, though. I am not going to agree with thee just because ye think I should."

"I would expect nothing less, Sinclair. I trust you, and your judgement. I will tell you everything, and you must make up your own mind."

"Very well, then."

Abby arranged the chairs so that they could see each other and she, Sinclair and Blake sat down. She was nervous, but not as much as she thought she would be. She believed Sinclair was a good man. He knew what Alasdair was like with her, and probably knew some of what he was like with others. As Heid of the Guard he must see a lot, but Alasdair was devious, and had hidden the worst of his behaviour well. She had to trust that Sinclair did not know the extent of it, and that he would believe her and want to help her. If he did not; if he betrayed her to Alasdair, then so be it. She was starting to learn not to measure her worth against that of other people, but she did not want to live without Marcus, and she certainly could not go on living with Alasdair. This was it now, do or die, and she was willing to face both eventualities. She took a deep breath, and then started to recite her tale. She started at the beginning, and the pale sun had crossed the sky by the time she finished.

Silence followed. Sinclair had not interrupted her once while she told her story, although his face had betrayed much of what he was thinking. He had been stony-faced at first, then curious, then horrified, and finally he just sat shaking his head. Whether it was in disbelief or anger she couldn't tell. Finally, he spoke.

"I need a drink, after hearing that. Fetch some wine, Blake."

Blake hesitated, clearly not wanting to leave Abby alone when they didn't know what Sinclair's response was going to be.

"It is fine, Blake. Please do as Sinclair asks. Bring us all a goblet."

Blake left the room and Abby looked at Sinclair. He shook his head again.

"It is a lot to take in, My Lady."

"I know. It was a lot for me, and most of it I have only learned this past fortnight."

"Can I ask thee something?"

"Yes, of course."

"Can I see them? Yer scars?"

"Oh." Abby had not expected him to focus on that part of the story, so his question surprised her.

"Please, My Lady."

"Yes. Yes, of course." Abby stood up and undid the buttons on the back of her dress. She turned around and let the bodice slip down, revealing her back to him.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She buttoned herself back up as best she could and turned around. Sinclair had tears in his eyes, and when she saw them, Abby began to cry as well, for the first time since she had heard the news about Marcus. She had held herself together well, but seeing Sinclair's distress was too much.

"Sinclair."

"Mistress, why didn't ye tell me?"

"I could not. You are his man."

"I know he's not a good man. I know he has done many bad things and I have shut my eyes to them, but if I had known this…"

"What? What could you have done?"

Sinclair shook his head. "I don't know, but something. I would have tried to help thee."

"No one could help me, Sinclair. Do not feel bad, it is in the past. Are you with me now?"

"Aye, My Lady."

"Please, call me Abigail. We are about to commit treason together. My Lady is too formal."

"I am not sure that I can."

"Please try."

Blake entered the room at that moment, and set the wine and the goblets down on the table. He poured them each a good measure. Sinclair downed his in one and so Blake topped it up again. Abby sipped at hers. She wanted to remain as clear-headed as possible. If Sinclair was on board, as he seemed to be, they needed to form a plan of rescue, and there was no time to waste, but first, she needed to know what had happened to Marcus in the castle.

"Blake. You said you had seen Kane. What was the circumstance?"

"He was strung up, Mistress, in one of the chambers of the castle. I wasn't there to witness what had happened before that, but I heard that he managed to escape Lord Griffin and got to the causeway but the sea had come in and his horse was in danger of drowning. Lord Griffin put him in a dungeon for two days with no food or water and then had him brought upstairs for questioning. That's when I first came across him."

Alasdair had had Marcus strung up so that he could question him, and no doubt beat him, while he was defenceless. When she did not think he could get any more loathsome, he did.

"What was the questioning?"

"The Master accused Kane of raping his brother's wife. Kane denied it, said they both knew who had really done it. I wasn't sure what he meant at first but Lord Griffin seemed to know and he didn't deny anything. He asked Kane if he had raped thee, Mistress, and he said he had. Then Lord Griffin beat him with a club."

Guilt overwhelmed Abby. Marcus had no choice but to admit the rape because to deny it would be to accuse Abby of lying, and he would never do that. Why had she not just told Alasdair the truth in the first place? If she had done that, he would not be so hell bent on destroying Marcus. She had let her anger with Alasdair for not supporting her get the better of her, and now the man she loved was going to die because of it.

"We have to save him," she said. "He is innocent."

"We will, Mistress, but there is one more thing. Lord Griffin wanted some papers that he thought Kane had, but he could not find them. Kane refused to tell him where they were, so the Master got very angry. I thought he was going to kill him, so I managed to stop him."

"Those are the papers I was telling you about," said Abby. "But where are they? Raven said Kane had them on him, and he was only going to give them directly to the Warden."

"I don't know, Mistress, but right now, the fact that the Master doesn't have those papers is the only thing keeping Kane alive."

"Then we must hurry. What do you know about the Isle of Light?"

"It is accessible only twice a day, when the tide is low, and at the moment that is either during the day or after midnight," replied Sinclair.

"After midnight would be good. No one will see us." Abby could picture them now, sneaking across on their horses in the dead of night.

"No My Lady, er, Abigail. It is treacherous ground. It is a new moon and will be black as pitch."

"We can take lights."

"Lights would be seen from the Priory and ye have to go past that to get tae the castle. They'd be waiting for us."

Abby was disappointed. It had seemed such a good idea. If that was the only way on and off the island, how were they going to rescue Marcus?

"We could get a boat," said Blake. "A fishing boat, get up alongside the castle. There are some old lime kilns down on the shore that would provide cover."

"We would still need a light," said Sinclair.

"Aye, but a light on a fishing boat is to be expected."

"True." Sinclair rubbed his chin as he considered the plan. "It could work."

"Then we just need to get a boat," said Abby. Hope was rising within her.

"Aye," said Blake. "And get into the castle, find Kane, release him from his dungeon, sneak him out and into the boat and get away without his guards noticing. Nae problem."

"Guards can be bribed," replied Sinclair.

"I don't have any money."

"There are other ways than money, Abigail. Leave it tae me."

She nodded at Sinclair, satisfied with their plan, relieved to be doing something to help Marcus.

Suddenly the door banged open and Harper ran in, skidding to a halt in front of them. "The Master," she said in between taking great gulps of air. "On his way."

"Shit," said Sinclair.

Abby looked at the wine on the table, and the three of them standing close together. They were the very definition of a conspiracy. She quickly opened the window and flung the goblets and the wine outside, fervently hoping no one was standing beneath because a wine bottle falling four floors was going to do someone's head a lot of damage. Her heart was pounding, her limbs shaking with fear, and anticipation. She was excited, she had to admit. Her blood was warm, as Marcus would say. She sat back down in her chair. Sinclair and Blake stood beside her, as though they had just come to check on her. They got into position just as Alasdair strode through the door.

"Here you all are," he said.

"Just checking on My Lady, Sir," said Sinclair. His voice was even enough but Abby could detect an edge to it, a hint of steel that had never been there before when he talked to Alasdair. She didn't think her husband would notice, he was clearly desperate to share his news. He had a broad smile on his face and he was all puffed up, chest pushed forward, back straight. He had a small cut on his neck that was scabbing over. Abby hoped Kane had given it him when he first tried to escape. She concentrated on that point now as he spoke to her.

"Have you heard the news, Abigail? I have snared the Wolf!"

"Sinclair has just informed me. Congratulations."

Alasdair rubbed his hands together. "He has confessed to it all. To attacking me, robbing me of my property, your defilement and that of his brother's wife. He's going to swing faster than you can say good riddance, Grey Wolf!"

"Congratulations, My Lord." Sinclair held his hand out to Alasdair who shook it. "When is the Sheriff heading to the island, Sir?"

"Oh, I'm not keeping him at the island. He's already on his way elsewhere."

Abby struggled to hide her shock. She resisted the temptation to look at the others, but it was hard.

"Where is he being taken, Sir?"

"Here."

"Here?" Sinclair was shocked. "To Duns House?"

"No, not here, man, to Kelso Castle. I'm going to make an example of him on his own turf, in front of all his cronies." Alasdair gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. "I will be in my chamber. I don't wish to be disturbed, I have much to do." With that he left.

Abby, Blake and Sinclair looked at each other.

"We need a new plan," said Sinclair.

 **Kelso, Roxburghshire**

In the dark of a cold November night, under a cloudy, moonless sky with no stars to light the way, two figures crept through the streets of Kelso, hugging the walls that surrounded the town. Dressed in dark cloaks, the hoods up and pulled tight to conceal their faces, they moved like shadows towards the castle keep, where a man was waiting for them, ready to open the door at their knock. Abby was one of those figures, and she hesitated as she reached the heavy wooden door. She raised her hand to knock but suddenly she couldn't do it.

"Is there a problem?" whispered Sinclair.

She turned to him. "What if it's a trap, or he has been taken ill and there's someone else on duty?"

"This man is a long-standing friend. I have faith in him. As for the other possibility. That is a risk we must take."

She nodded. It wasn't that she was worried for herself so much, she had thrown caution to the wind the day she met Marcus Kane; she was concerned for Marcus, didn't want to jeopardise his safety if they were caught. He had already been punished enough by Alasdair. She knocked softly on the door, unwilling to make too much noise it was so quiet in the town. There was no answer.

"Ye'll have tae knock louder than that, Abigail," said Sinclair. "Shall I do it?"

"No." Abby wanted to do this herself, take as much of the responsibility as she could. She knocked louder, flinching as the sound echoed between the walls of the castle and the surrounding houses. The door creaked as it opened, and a face peered out at them.

"Ye're late," the man said.

"Aye, sorry about that, Stephen. We got held up at the house." Sinclair shook hands with the man and he stood to one side to let them pass into the castle.

Abby looked around. They were in a narrow stone passageway with a low ceiling. She had no trouble standing up in it but Sinclair and Stephen had to bow their heads as they walked. The hallway was bathed in an orange glow from the light of candles attached to the walls. Sinclair had told her the passageway was used to take goods in and out of the castle, and sometimes the mistresses of the Abbot who lived in the castle rather than in the priory on the other side of town. Now it was being used to allow her to see Marcus for what she hoped would not be the last time. Stephen led them along the passageway and down some steps to another passageway almost identical to the one they had just walked through. It was colder down here, though, as they were beneath the ground. There was a large door at the far end with iron bars across it and a huge lock. Stephen pulled back the bars and searched through his enormous bunch of keys for the right one, before inserting it and opening the door. Abby went through. The room she was in had a series of archways along both sides, each with a wooden door. The doors had barred openings half-way up. The room stretched as far as her eye could see. They were in the basement of the castle, in the gaol. Anticipation grew inside Abby, making her limbs tingle and her heart race. Marcus was in one of these chambers.

"Keep yer hood up," said Stephen as he led them to a chamber half-way along the room. He inserted a key into the lock and opened the door. "Ye have five minutes."

Abby nodded and stepped through into the chamber, letting her eyes adjust to the gloom. Only a faint light entered the chamber from the outside, but it was enough for her to make out a figure sitting in the corner. He got to his feet, chains rattling, as Stephen closed the door behind her. Abby swallowed a cry at the groans he made as he straightened himself up.

"What do ye want?" he asked in a gruff voice.

"Marcus, it's me!"

"Abby?"

"Yes, yes, it's me, it's Abby. Oh, it's so good to see you." She pushed her hood back and stepped forward at the same time Marcus did and they were face to face at last. His eyes were wide with shock, the whites of them bright in his dirty face. He was bruised, the skin she could see was mottled purple and yellow. He had a barely-healed cut on his lip where his old scar was, the one he had got in a fight with his brother.

"Abby," he said again.

Abby reached up and put her hands on the side of his head and planted kisses all over his face, from his forehead, along the fine bridge of his nose, to his cheeks, which were hollow, the bones hard-edged beneath her lips, his beard rough and prickly. She kissed his mouth, pressing lightly so she didn't disturb his cut. He didn't respond at first, his lips remaining shut in a thin, tight line, and then he opened his mouth a little, and she took advantage, slipping her tongue in to taste him. He moaned, and then began kissing her back, hot and urgent. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her hard to him.

"Is this a dream?" he whispered into her mouth.

She broke away from his lips to kiss his neck, along his throat. "No, love, it is not a dream. I am here. Feel me."

His hands slipped beneath her cloak, the chains heavy against her as he roamed her body, mapping the shape of her, and she pressed herself to him. She wanted him so badly, even now, in this most inappropriate of places, she wanted him to touch her, bring her to life like he always did, but it could not be.

"Ye are here, my Abby." His voice was so rough, cracking with emotion, that it brought tears to Abby's eyes.

"Yes, but I do not have long." She stepped away from him reluctantly.

"What are ye doing here? How?"

"Sinclair has a friend who owed him a favour."

"Sinclair?" He sounded bewildered, and she couldn't blame him. What a shock it must be for him to have her suddenly here in his cell, when he had been alone for so long.

"Yes, he is our ally now, but I don't have time for the full story. You have to trust me."

"I do, but Abby."

"Shush, listen. We are going to save you. I just need to get money together, to give to Stephen, the man who has let us in here today."

"Why can't we leave now, if he has let ye in here already?"

"He is willing to help us, Marcus, but if he let you leave now, he would be blamed, and hanged in your place. He needs money, to get away from here as soon as you are escaped."

"Aye, of course. No one else must die because of me." He took her hand in his, caressed it. "Abby, I don't like the sound of this. It is too dangerous. If ye are caught, ye will be condemned to death too."

"Then I won't get caught. Please, Marcus. Let me help you. Let me save you, as you have saved me."

He sighed. "Where are ye going to get the money from?"

"I have some jewels to give him."

"Ye cannae give him yer jewels, Abby. Alasdair will notice they are gone."

"What does that matter once you are free?"

"I won't be free. I'll be on the run. I'll have tae leave here, go tae England, or France even."

"And I will come with you."

"Oh, Abby. Have ye thought this through? What will we live on? That's no life for thee."

"I can determine what life I want to lead, Marcus. Anyway, when you are free what is to stop us continuing with our plan? You still have the papers, don't you?"

"They are hidden in the dungeon at Lightwater Castle."

"Then we will retrieve them, and we will use them to blackmail Alasdair into granting me a divorce. He gets to keep his good name, his land and titles, and we get to walk away."

Marcus shook his head. Abby wasn't sure if it was because he didn't like her plan, or he was afraid for her safety.

"I don't want ye to sell yer jewels, Abby."

"I have to, and even that will not be enough. Do you still have my cross, the one Jacob gave me?"

"Ye are not selling that to save me. No."

"Marcus, it is only jewellery, and he would want to help me, I know he would."

Marcus folded his arms in a gesture of defiance, and didn't speak, just stood with his lips tightly pursed.

Abby sighed. "Then I will have no choice but to sell my body. I have learned how to use it well these last few months."

Marcus stared at her open mouthed, and she smiled. He laughed then. "Aye, ye would fetch a pretty price, I'm sure." He caressed her cheek, wincing as he lifted the heavy chains up to do it.

"Marcus, you're hurt. I haven't even asked how you are I was just so happy to see you."

"I'm fine, dinnae worry about me. Listen, Alice might be able to help you, with the money."

"Your sister-in-law?"

"Aye. She keeps a little money of mine, from before. I didn't know about it for a long time, but she got a message to me once, said she had hidden it, and it was there if ever I needed it. I didn't want any reminders of my life before, but it's yours, Abby, if ye'll take it."

"Will she see me?"

"I don't see why not. Ye'll have tae hurry, though. My execution is set for the day after tomorrow, and it's a long way to Weatherton."

The door opened, and Stephen entered. "Ye'll have to leave now, My Lady. It is time."

"Just one moment. Please."

He nodded and went to stand outside in the passageway.

Abby turned back to Marcus. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. He held out his arms and she fell into them, embracing him so hard he let out a small gasp of pain. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Don't be. It is a beautiful pain." He kissed her, and it was bittersweet, because no matter how optimistic she was about her plan, it felt like goodbye.

"I'll be back for you, I promise."

He nodded. "Stay strong, Abby."

"I love you, Marcus. I love you so much."

"My Lady. Ye must come now." Stephen came right into the room, so she had no choice but to leave.

Abby nodded, and smiled at Marcus, before turning and walking out of the cell. She had to force her legs to move, because all her body wanted was to stay in there with him, be with him until they both died if that was how it had to be. Sinclair was waiting, and he put his arm around her as they retraced their steps back to the passageway, and the door to the outside world. She felt like she was leaving Marcus behind forever.

 **Weatherton, Dumfriesshire**

It was late in the afternoon before Abby had been able to leave for Weatherton in Dumfriesshire. She had updated Raven on her meeting with Marcus as soon as she had returned to Duns House, and the girl had promptly ridden to the Isle of Light to see if she could find where Marcus had hidden the papers. Alasdair had then moved the household back to Arkholm as it was closer to Kelso and she had spent the morning packing her things and transporting them back to the tower. Normally, she would have been excited about going back to Arkholm, because it was the home she loved the most, but the delay it caused only made her anxious. She was reunited with Juno, however, and seeing her beloved horse gave her great happiness. Thankfully, Alasdair had promptly left for Kelso, where he intended to spend the time before Kane's execution, no doubt with his mistress. He had insisted Sinclair go with him, so it was Blake who was accompanying her on her journey across hill and dale to Dumfries. It was a long journey and to make it there and back in time they had stayed overnight in a small cottage belonging to a friend of Blake's. Now they were getting close to Weatherton and Abby was excited to see where Marcus grew up, to stand in the place that shaped the young boy, and the man she loved, but she was also nervous. She had to persuade Alice to speak to her, give her the money, and then face the long ride back to Kelso to arrive before dawn. They had to rescue Kane under cover of darkness; there was no room for error, no way she could be late. She didn't like to think about what would happen if Alice wasn't there, or if she refused to give Abby the money. She trusted to hope, and spurred her horse on ever faster.

Kane's home, Weatherton Castle, sat at the foot of a range of hills, and as Abby and Blake crested the final hill, she looked down on the plain, and got a bird's eye view of his ancestral home. It was nothing like she had expected, and was the most unusual castle she had ever seen. The fortifications were laid out in a triangle, with a large gatehouse at one point and two smaller towers at the others. The main house and courtyard sat within the walls and the whole castle was surrounded by a triangular moat and a large grassy bank. The castle was made of sandstone, and stood out proudly, orange-red against the blue of the sky and the dark waters of the moat.

"Have you ever seen anything like that?" she said to Blake.

"No, Mistress. It is astounding."

"It is. Let us descend and go to the gatehouse."

They followed a rough path down the side of the hill. Abby imagined Marcus running about these hills as a child, hunting rabbits, laughing and chasing his brother, his dark hair flopping in his eyes. The image made her smile. Up close the gatehouse was imposing, with twin towers either side of an arched entrance. The Kane family crest was carved into the stone above the archway. It was two wolves, poised as if about to pounce, staring out at the viewer with curious eyes. So, that was why he was called the Grey Wolf! All the time she had known him he had never told her, and she had never asked. She had meant to, but then he had turned up injured and she had forgotten all about it. A wooden drawbridge lay across the moat to the entrance of the gatehouse and they rode across, before dismounting when they reached an iron portcullis within the arch of the gatehouse. A guard came out of a small room off to one side.

"My Lady. What is yer business here?"

"I am here to see Lady Alice Kane, is she at home?" Abby held her breath while she waited for the guard to answer. If Alice wasn't home, then their journey was for naught.

"She is, My Lady. Whom shall I say is calling?"

"My name is Lady Abigail…" Abby hesitated. Would Alice receive her if she said her name was Griffin? Would she want to see the wife of the man who raped her? She had not thought this through, so eager had she been to save Marcus. He had seemed sure that Alice would see her, but now that Abby was here, in the place where it had all happened, carrying that hated name with her like a stain that could not be washed out, she was not so certain. What else could she say, though? Why would Alice receive a stranger?

"My Lady, are you unwell?"

Abby had paused mid-sentence, and had been quiet too long, she realised. "Yes, I am sorry. Please tell her that Lady Abigail Griffin wishes to speak with her."

"Very well, My Lady. Please wait a moment."

The guard summoned another guard who was on the other side of the portcullis and instructed him to find Lady Alice. Abby looked at Blake. He raised his eyebrows in a "let us wait and see" gesture.

"Kane's home is not what I expected," he whispered.

"No. It is much grander than I thought it would be", Abby replied.

"Did ye know his family was this wealthy?"

Abby shook her head. "I know nothing about them." It was becoming clearer to her now just how much Marcus had given up for the sake of Alice, and his family's reputation.

The guard returned and there was a loud clanking noise and the grinding of cogs as the portcullis was slowly lifted.

"Please follow me. I'll show ye where to stable yer horses." Abby and Blake passed beneath, following the guard to the stable where they handed their horses to the groomsman.

"Perhaps it is best if you wait here, Blake."

"Are ye sure, Mistress? Will ye be alright?"

"I am sure. This is something I must do alone. I will be fine." She patted Blake's arm and then followed the guard across the courtyard to the main house. The door opened into a large hallway with whitewashed walls covered in portraits of what she presumed were Kane family ancestors. Oak tables and cabinets lined one side of the hallway, heavy, solid pieces that looked centuries old. Bronze statues of deer and wolves sat on top, with jugs of pewter and ornately-carved candlesticks. At the end of the hallway was a huge door, the wood almost black with age, and studded with iron rivets. It was made to be imposing and Abby began to lose her resolve as she contemplated what was on the other side. Alice was waiting for her, and Abby had no idea how well she would be received. She had imagined walking in, telling Alice that Marcus was in need and Alice being so moved by his plight she would run to get the money and Abby would be on her way before Juno had finished her hay. Now she had a sick feeling that it was not going to be as simple as that.

The guard opened the door and showed Abby into the Grand Hall. It was twice the size of the hall at Duns House if not bigger, with a vaulted ceiling almost as high as the whole house. Huge tapestries hung on the stone walls depicting scenes from history, battles that she suspected the Kane family had been involved in themselves. Three large oak dining tables with benches sat in the main area of the hall, but Abby took no notice of them. Her eye was drawn instead to the portraits hanging over the fireplace. There were three. An older man with sandy hair and a pale face stared out at her from one. He had a strong face, with heavy cheekbones, pale blue eyes and a nose that she recognised immediately. It was Marcus's nose, only straighter, perhaps as his must have been before whatever fight he was in caused it to bend in that way she found so endearing. The portrait must be that of his father, Lord Robert Kane, and the one next to it was unmistakably Marcus's mother because he favoured her with his black wavy hair and dark eyes. His mother's hair was braided like Abby's but she could tell it was curly from the way it was fighting to escape the braid, wisps of it sticking out everywhere, the way Marcus's hair never seemed to lie still, as though it had a life of its own. Abby felt a warmth towards her immediately. She was in a serious, dignified pose, but the artist had captured her twinkling eyes and the slight smile that was tugging at her thin lips, Marcus's lips. Beneath those portraits hung one other, that of his brother, James. He was blonde and blue-eyed like his father, and nothing like Marcus at all save for the same mouth. What caught her eye more than the pictures themselves, though, was the space next to James, where clearly Marcus's portrait had been before his disgrace. The family had not sought to replace it, or rearrange the other pictures to hide the space; it had simply been left, perhaps as a permanent reminder of what he had done, and what they had lost.

"My Lady." The guard disturbed Abby's reverie and she followed him to a nook at the end of the Great Hall, where two richly-covered sofas were arranged around a small table. This end of the room was panelled in oak, which should have given it more warmth, but instead it seemed austere, with landscape pictures on the walls that all appeared to have been painted during extreme weather conditions or in poor light. Abby could not imagine Marcus living in a place like this; it was too cold, too stiff and formal. His spirit could never have been happy cooped up here, and she wondered if he would ever be able to live this life again. His life now may be poor and sparse, but he had freedom, and she couldn't see him wanting to give that up for anything, maybe not even her.

There was a woman standing at the window, looking out onto the castle's outer walls. She was dressed simply in a flowing pale green dress, and was tall, and slim, with long arms, and hair so blonde it was almost white.

The guard addressed her. "Lady Alice. The Lady Abigail Griffin is here."

"Thank you; you may leave us." She turned, and looked at Abby. Her eyes were the blue of a robin's egg, her skin creamy and flawless. She was almost ethereal in her beauty and Abby was taken aback. She was suddenly aware that she was dressed in her simple blue riding dress, and her hair had escaped its braid in numerous places, and was falling into her eyes. She was flushed and damp with sweat from her long ride, and her fingernails were dirty from picking a few rare plants she'd spotted along the way. She held her hands together to hide them.

Alice took all of this in, of course, her cool eyes surveying Abby but giving no hint of what she thought.

"Lady Abigail," she said. "I do not think we have met?"

"No, My Lady. We have not met, but we have a mutual acquaintance."

"Oh?" Alice flinched, and then straightened again. Abby cursed herself. Alice must have thought she meant Alasdair. Of course, they had two mutual acquaintances but she didn't know that.

"I am talking of Marcus Kane," said Abby. "He is, er, a friend of mine."

"Marcus is a friend of yours? Oh. I thought, with your surname…" She trailed off, and there was an uncomfortable silence while Abby worked up the courage to admit the other man they both had in common.

"Yes." She coughed. "I am who you probably think I am. Lord Griffin is my husband."

Alice stared at Abby, but didn't speak. Abby felt an overwhelming urge to fill the silence.

"I know. Erm, about your circumstances. Marcus. Well, he told me. I know what my husband did to you." The last words came out in a breathless rush.

"Do you?"

"Yes, and I am sorry, so sorry."

"I have often wondered what his wife was like. What kind of woman could be married to a man like that."

Alice was softly spoken, but there was an edge to her voice, sharp steel, that cut into Abby's veins, making her blood run cold. Abby swallowed. She was completely unprepared for this visit. How could she have thought she could walk into this woman's home, get what she wanted from her and leave without any disturbance to either of their states of mind? She could not speak; there was a lump in her throat that was preventing words from getting out. She tried to swallow to shift it but it was stubborn.

"You are not as I imagined," Alice continued.

"Oh," said Abby at last. "What did you imagine?"

"I imagined you dressed in the finest cloths from around the world, draped in jewels, everything about you perfect and pampered. How else could he get you to turn a blind eye to the man he was?"

"I did not turn a blind eye. I didn't know what he had done."

A flush of pink spread across Alice's nose and cheeks. She laughed, but there was no humour in it. "How could you be married to him and not know?"

Tears didn't just well up in Abby, they poured out of her, flooding down her cheeks, dripping onto her bodice, staining it dark blue. It was devastating to hear the question she had asked herself so many times coming from this woman, her tone accusatory, disgusted.

"I thought it was just me, that he abused. I didn't know there were others. He hid it well, and my servants hid it from me. No one told me, until I met Marcus."

She looked up at Alice, who frowned. Her manner didn't soften, but she gestured to the sofas. "Let us sit down."

Abby sat on one sofa and Alice on the other, the table between them.

"He abuses you? How?"

Abby didn't want to tell her story to this woman, this stranger, but she knew she had to. She owed it to Alice to tell her the truth.

"He takes me by force, when I don't want to. I never want to but it doesn't stop him. It is his right, as my husband, I know that, but he is not tender. He does not spare me. And he beat me, for years, because I couldn't give him a child. He scarred me with a hot poker. He kept me down, belittled me, made me feel worthless until I was at the point where I didn't question him, I just obeyed to save myself from another beating or dressing down. I was a shadow, existing in the darkness where no one could see me, trying to make myself as invisible as possible. I didn't know what was going on in the world because I barely existed in it."

When she finished, she forced herself to look up, to face the woman her husband had wronged so badly. There were tears sliding down Alice's face as well. There was a silence, save for the sound of two women crying for themselves and each other, and for what they had lost, what had been taken from them.

Alice wiped her face, sucked in her cheeks in an effort to hold the tears back.

"I did not consider that his wife was a victim too. I am sorry for you."

Abby nodded. "There is no need for you to be sorry, but I am grateful for your consideration."

"You said you were a friend of Marcus, that he told you about your husband. What is the circumstance of your meeting him? You know he is banished from this house, and why?"

"I do. He told me when we first met that he had not done what he had confessed to, and then a short while ago I found out the whole story. I was devastated. For him, for you."

"But how did a Lady like you meet a reiver like him? How is he your friend? He is an outlaw."

"He's not just my friend." Abby took a deep breath. She had to be open with Alice, because she wasn't going to give her the money if she didn't trust her, if she didn't know the whole truth. "We have been having a love affair since I met him during a raid back in September. I love him and I think, I know, that he loves me."

"Oh! But your husband!"

"He does not know, but he has had a vendetta against Marcus ever since he raided us with his clan, and he has finally caught up with him." She leaned forward. "Alice, Marcus is to be hanged tomorrow. My husband is holding him in Kelso Castle and he means to bring him to the gallows and kill him."

"Oh!" Alice gasped, clasping her hand over her mouth in shock.

"He told me you were his friend, the only one he liked in his family, that you tolerated him. Those were his words." Abby gave a small laugh, as Marcus had done when he told her.

Alice smiled. "Yes. I liked him very much, but he didn't make it easy. He was arrogant, and wilful, and didn't listen to anyone else."

Abby laughed. "He is still those things, but he is also kind, and loving, and strong and brave. He is a wonderful man, Alice. I wish you could see him as he is now."

"What do you want from me, Abigail? You must be here for a purpose."

"I need money, to bribe his guard so he can escape before his execution tomorrow. I was going to sell what jewels I have but he has refused to allow me. He said you had some money of his, that you would give it to him if he ever needed it. We need it now, Alice."

Alice sat back on the sofa, surveying Abby. "You are brave, to come here, to face me, knowing what your husband has done. I can see what Marcus likes about you. He always did like a spirited woman." She paused, and smiled, as though a happy memory had come to her mind. "I do have the money, and you are welcome to it."

Relief flooded Abby's veins. "Thank you."

Alice held up her hand. "There is a condition."

"If you wish." Abby felt nervous again. What could Alice want in return?

"I want that husband of yours to face justice. I don't care how you do it, but he must pay for what he has done, Abigail. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes. Of course." Abby felt guilty, because she had decided that all that mattered was for her and Marcus to be able to live together freely, without the threat of Alasdair hanging over their heads. The only way to do that was with a divorce. It was rare for a woman to divorce a man, but not impossible, and she was convinced they could blackmail Alasdair into allowing it. Now, Alice was wanting justice, and Abby knew in her heart that she was right, but they had trod that path, and it had led to Marcus beaten and languishing in gaol awaiting execution. She put all thoughts of guilt to the back of her mind. All that mattered was getting the money and getting back to Kelso before it was too late, before Marcus was lost to her forever.

Alice seemed satisfied. "Very well then. Please wait here."

She left the room and Abby sat back. She was shaking, and she wondered if she had been shaking during the whole conversation with Alice, without realising it. She picked at some of the dirt in her fingernails, prising it out in an effort to make herself more presentable, and then didn't know where to drop it, because everything in the room was so pristine. There was a large fern in a pot near the window, so she went over to it, and dropped the dirt in there, where the soil could be of some use. The view out of the window was just of the castle walls, which seemed to close in as they were set out in a triangle. The house was suffocating, and she couldn't wait to be able to leave and get back to Kelso.

When Alice returned, Abby was sitting back on the sofa as though she had never left it. She stood up as Alice held out a parcel to her.

"All of the money is there, plus some of my own. It should be more than enough to bribe the guard, and for anything else you might need."

"Thank you, Alice," said Abby as she took the package. They stood awkwardly opposite each other, as close as they had been during this whole encounter.

"Give my regards to Marcus." Alice closed her eyes, and breathed deeply before opening them again. "I am grateful to him. You must believe that. He saved my life, our family life."

"I know. And he would do it all over again if he had to."

Alice's face crumpled at Abby's words, and tears fell again.

"Oh, I am sorry," said Abby, and she took hold of Alice and pulled her into a hug. Alice resisted, standing stiffly until Abby held her tighter, whispering to her. "He loves you very much."

Alice brought her arms up behind Abby, returning the hug. "Thank you."

She stepped back then. "You must go to him. Hurry."

"I will." Abby turned to head back towards the door, and Alice called after her.

"Abigail?"

Abby looked around.

"Yes?"

"Write to me."

Abby nodded, and smiled, and then walked to the door, pulling it open with some effort. The guard was standing behind and he led her back out of the house to the stable, where Blake was waiting.

"Is everything alright, Mistress?"

"Yes, Blake. I have the money. Let us not delay. I have been longer than I anticipated, and I fear we will not make it before dawn."

They mounted their horses and Blake led the way back through the portcullis, across the drawbridge and back out onto the hills. They had a long ride back to Kelso, and no time to stop. Blake shouted as he spurred his horse up the rise towards the top of the hill, and Abby followed, her heart thumping in her chest. Would they make it in time?

 **Kelso, Roxburghshire**

By the time the River Tweed came into view, Abby was exhausted. Juno had slowed to a trot over the last two miles, refusing to respond to Abby's desperate urging for her to move faster. Abby couldn't blame her, would never normally try to force her to do anything she didn't want to do, but the sky was starting to lighten. They were long past the time she had arranged to meet Stephen and Sinclair, and she was worried they would have given up on her. More to the point, as dawn broke the town would start to wake. The market traders would arrive to set up their stalls, suppliers would come to the castle to bring the food for the day ahead. The baker would already be hard at work in the kitchen. Smuggling Marcus out in the midst of all that activity would be impossible.

When they came to the river they dismounted. Abby handed Juno to Blake.

"Wait here for me."

"Do ye have the money, Mistress?"

Abby tapped her pouch. "Yes, it is safe in here."

"Good luck."

She scrambled down the bank of the river to a point where there was a ford, a shallow place that could be crossed on foot. She lifted her skirts and waded across. The water was deeper than she'd hoped because of recent rains, and was getting closer to the top of her knee-high boots the further across the river she went, until some of it spilled over, down into her boots, ice-cold as it soaked her stockings. She ignored it, continued wading across, fighting the current that threatened to knock her off balance. When she reached the other side, she climbed the bank and found the rough path that led along the outside wall of the castle. Her boots were squelching with every step she took, and the noise was so loud she had to stop, bracing herself against the wall as she took off one boot, turning it upside down so that the water poured out in a long stream, and then doing the same with the other.

The path was normally guarded by a watchman who stood in a hidden alcove set into the wall. Sinclair was supposed to have bribed him with the promise of a tryst with a woman, a thought which disgusted Abby, but needs must. She had found she was prepared to do a lot of things she would never have dreamed she would do only a few months before. She crept along the path edging closer to the alcove, hoping that the guard was still with the woman. She had not bothered trying to come up with a reason for being out on a path outside the castle walls in the early hours of the morning because there wasn't a plausible one. If she was caught, it was the end for her, but she had promised Marcus she would not get caught, and so far, so good. The alcove was empty, and Abby let out a sigh of relief. There was only a short distance to go and then she was out on the main street, a few steps from the side entrance she had used two nights before. She paused to catch her breath, to ready herself for the next phase, when a hooded figure loomed at her out of the darkness. She nearly screamed, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle the noise so that it came out more like a squeak.

"Abigail. It is me, Sinclair."

Abby's heart was racing so fast she could hardly breathe. "Sinclair!"

"Aye. I'm sorry if I startled thee."

"Startled me!" gasped Abby. "You have nearly killed me! I thought I had been discovered."

"I am sorry."

"What are you doing out here? We were supposed to meet inside. Is something the matter?" Dread settled over Abby. Had their plans changed? Was Marcus still in the castle? A thought came into her head that filled her with a sense of horror. What if he had been executed early? She would not have known. He might already be dead. A small cry did escape her as she thought that.

"Nothing is the matter. I was concerned about thee. Ye are so late."

"Oh. It was more difficult than I expected, but I have the money."

"Good," said Sinclair. "Then we should delay no further."

Abby followed him to the door which he opened without knocking. He ushered Abby inside and closed it again. Stephen was waiting for them.

"I'm glad you are here, My Lady."

"Thank you, Stephen. I have your money. Is Marcus ready?"

"Aye. Ye'd better get down there quickly. He's like a cat on hot coals. He thinks ye've been captured."

She followed him down the now familiar route, to the large door and through it to the cell where Kane was kept. She could see his hands holding the bars of the window, and when she got closer his hair was visible, because his face was pressed to the bars, straining to look up the hallway towards the sound of their footsteps. She ran ahead of Stephen and grasped his hands.

"Abby!" He beamed at her, lifted her hands and pressed his lips to them through the bars. "Ye came back for me."

"I told you I would."

"Step back, My Lady, while I open the door, and be quiet." Stephen opened the door and Kane tried to push through but Stephen held him back. "We need to get those chains off ye before ye go anywhere otherwise the clanking will wake half the county."

Abby waited outside in the hallway while Stephen searched his keys for the right one. Kane was tapping his foot with impatience, she could hear the chains moving rhythmically as he did so. The moment he was free he pushed past Stephen and took her in his arms, holding her tight to him, kissing the top of her head. She looked up at him and he kissed her nose, and then captured her lips in a deep kiss.

Stephen's cough interrupted them. "There's time enough for that. Let's get moving."

Kane took hold of Abby's hand, caressing the back of it with his thumb, and they headed down the hallway and up the stairs to the low passageway where Sinclair was waiting for them. There was an awkward silence for a moment as the two former enemies came face to face. Sinclair held his hand out to Marcus, who took it, shaking it firmly.

"Thank ye for helping Abigail, and me."

Sinclair nodded. "Let's get you out of here first, then ye can thank me."

Sinclair headed towards the door and Kane bent his head as he followed. The corridor was too narrow for Kane and Abby to walk side by side but he didn't let go of her hand so she stumbled along behind him, doing a kind of sideways shuffle so they didn't lose the contact. When they reached the door Sinclair stopped, and turned around with his finger to his lips. He eased the door open and slipped outside, shutting the door behind him. For one heart-stopping moment Abby thought he had locked them in, that he would return any moment with Alasdair in tow and all would be lost. She squeezed Marcus's hand and he squeezed hers back, pulling her closer to him. Then the door opened and Sinclair was standing in the dawn's early light. He was alone. Abby breathed a sigh of relief. Sinclair beckoned them out.

"Let us go. It is safe for now."

Kane started to head to the door, but Abby pulled him back.

"Wait a moment."

She turned to Stephen. "Thank you for everything you have done. I hope this is enough for you to start a new life." She handed him the package Alice had given her. There had been a lot more money than Abby was expecting, so she had removed some of it for emergencies.

"Yes, we are most grateful," said Kane.

Stephen took the package. "Bless you, My Lady. I wish thee both well."

"Come on! There is no time to waste." Sinclair was getting anxious and Abby could understand why. She could hear the rumble of cartwheels in the distance. The market traders were on their way.

Abby took the lead and retraced her steps along the castle wall towards the river. She had to drop Kane's hand because the path was so narrow and there were places where she had to brace the wall for support. She could hear him breathing behind her, and it was the most comforting sound in the world. By the time they got to the ford it was so light she could see Blake standing on the rise on the other side of the river. He waved at her and she waved back.

"We have to cross here," she said to Kane. "The current is strong. Will you be alright?"

"Aye, I'll be fine." He bent down and took off his boots and tied the laces together. Then he took off his socks, stuffed them into the boots and slung them round his neck before wading into the water. Abby cursed herself for not thinking of doing that when she had first crossed the river. Her feet were still wet and cold so she didn't bother doing the same, just followed him as he crossed, keeping as close as she could in case he fell. He would be weak from his time in captivity but knowing Kane as she now did, he would ignore that fact and keep going until his body gave up.

Blake scrambled down the river bank as they approached, wading in to the shallows to grab hold of Kane who was stumbling as the strength in his legs started to give way.

"Sir, it is good to see thee."

Kane collapsed onto the bank as soon as he reached the grass. "It is good to see thee as well."

"We don't have time for ye to rest, I'm afraid."

"I know, son, just let me get my breath back." Kane sat back on his elbows, breathing heavily.

Abby knelt beside him. "Sit still for a moment. You are weak from your captivity. When was the last time you ate or drank?"

Kane shrugged. "I don't know."

"Blake. There is some bread and water in my saddle bag I think. Fetch it."

While she waited for him to fetch the food, Abby took Kane's boots from round his neck, untied them and took his socks out to put back over his feet. They were threadbare, more holes than wool. She was going to have to learn how to darn at some point as well. That thought made her smile as she slipped his boots on and tied the laces. Kane put his hand on her head and stroked her hair.

"What is amusing you?"

She looked up at him. "Nothing. I am just happy." Blake returned with the food and she gave the water to Kane. "Just sip it. You can nibble the bread as we go. Take small amounts so your stomach can get used to it."

"We need to go, Mistress."

Abby nodded. "Very well." She turned to Sinclair. "You had better return to Alasdair. How long do we have until he will know Marcus is missing?"

"The execution is set for midday, Abigail," replied Sinclair. He may want to go and visit Kane beforehand or he may not, I cannot be sure. Either way, he will be expecting you at the market place at midday to witness it."

"Then we must hurry. I will be back for then."

Blake pulled Kane to his feet. "Do ye want me to help ye get on my horse? Ye'll have to ride with me."

Kane shook his head. "I'll ride with Abby."

Abby mounted Juno, and Blake helped Kane to get up behind her. He put his arms around her waist and held on tight. Abby urged Juno forward, and as they got closer to the hills, she relaxed, allowed herself to enjoy the feel of his body wrapped around her, his warm breath on the back of her neck, the soft kisses he planted every now and then in her hair.

Raven was waiting for them at the top of the path that led down to the cave she had found for them weeks ago, and she ran up to Abby, helping Kane down before enveloping him in a big hug.

"I thought I had lost thee forever."

"Ye can't get rid of me that easily, ye know that."

"I have yer horse! And the papers!"

"Ye're the best, Raven." Kane sagged in Raven's arms, and Abby stepped forward.

"Let's get him to the cave. He needs rest. There'll be plenty of time for you to catch up later. Blake, can you help?"

Blake put Kane's arm over his shoulder and guided him down the path to the cave. Inside, Raven had made up a bed with a straw-stuffed cover, and had brought some of Abby's medicinal potions and tinctures, together with cloths and fresh water. A fire was burning near the entrance, a tin filled with water hanging above it.

"You have done a wonderful job, Raven." Abby put her hand on the girl's arm, and she smiled.

"Only the best for him."

The three of them helped Kane to the bed and laid him down.

"I think we should go and feed the horses, Raven. They have had a long trip," said Blake.

Raven pulled a face, because she clearly didn't want to leave Kane, but Blake grabbed her arm and led her out of the cave. Abby heard him say "ye can have him when she's gone" as they disappeared out of sight. She knelt beside Kane, stroked his matted hair.

"She's in love with you, isn't she?"

Kane nodded. "I didn't know, until just before I left for the island. It is a passing fancy, nothing more."

"I doubt she feels that way. You must treat her with care."

"I will. Oh, Abby! I thought ye had been captured, when ye didn't return on time."

"I am sorry, my love. It took longer than I thought, and it is a long way. The horses were tired."

"I know, I know. I was worried, that is all. I could not live, if anything happened to thee."

She kissed his hand. "Nothing will happen to me, I promise. Now, let me have a look at you. Where do you hurt the most?"

"My stomach."

She pushed his filthy shirt up over his chest and gasped when she saw his body. His stomach had so many bruises they had merged into one huge purple mark covering his abdomen. It was still an angry purple, fading to yellow around the edges. She placed a gentle hand on it and Kane winced.

"What has he done to you?"

"He's a cowardly man, Abby."

"Blake said he hit you with a club."

"Aye."

"Oh, Marcus." She kissed his stomach, her lips barely grazing his skin because she didn't want to hurt him.

He sighed. "Kisses make everything better."

"I wish they did, but they will not heal this wound. I will put arnica on it, to help the bruising. She smeared the tincture over his stomach and then wrapped a cloth around him. "Raven will need to put this on you twice a day until the bruising fades."

"She will enjoy that."

Abby looked at him. "Not too much, I hope."

Kane smiled. "Dinnae worry. There are parts of me that will only ever be for thee."

Abby gave him a wry smile. "I wish I could stay to look after you properly."

"So do I."

She pulled his shirt over his head, checked his chest and his arms. He had a few cuts that were healing over and more bruising but nothing as bad as his stomach. She dipped a cloth in the warm water and washed him. His wrists were lacerated from the chains, and she cleaned them and dressed them in fresh cloth. "It is like when we first met. When you rode back from Newcastle."

"Aye. Ye took care of me then as well."

"Will this be our life? Is it always going to be like this?"

"We will be rid of Alasdair soon."

"I'm not talking about Alasdair. I'm talking about me and you, when we are together. You put yourself in danger all the time. Am I to be always patching you up, worrying about you?"

Kane took a deep breath. "No. I did a lot of thinking, while I was locked up, and I have made a decision. I am going to see my father once we are free of yer husband. I will tell him the truth, and he will take me back, I am certain."

Abby shook her head. "You will not be happy there, in that house. It was stifling, Marcus; I couldn't picture you living there at all, except as a young boy perhaps."

"I did not have thee in my life then. Everything will be different."

"I will be happy with you wherever we are. I don't want you to lead a life you don't like because of me, but I don't want you getting hurt either."

"I want thee to have nice things, Abby, a good life. I want to give ye that."

"I had nice things; they do not make people happy. I didn't bring this up because I want you to leave the clan. You said I hadn't thought it through, running away with you, and I hadn't. We haven't thought any of this through, have we?"

"No, we haven't. Let us at least go and see my father, and listen to what he has to say. Then we can decide what we want to do."

Abby nodded, rinsing out the cloth she had used to clean him and laying it on a rock to dry.

"I must go. Sinclair is expecting me."

He took her hand, pulled her towards him. "No, Abby. Come and lie down with me."

"Marcus, I want to but there isn't time."

"There is time. I want to feel thee in my arms again."

He shifted closer to the wall, and Abby lay down on the mattress facing him. She unfastened her cloak, and covered them both with it because Marcus was shirtless, and it was cold in the cave. He caressed her face, his thumb tracing her lower lip, pulling it down a little. He pushed the tip of his thumb into her mouth and she sucked it. He moaned, and took his thumb away, replaced it with his lips, kissing her, pulling her closer to him.

Abby could feel the desire building within her. He was impossible to resist, but she must try.

"Marcus."

"Hmmm?"

"We can't."

"I want thee."

"I know, I want you. I want you so much, but you are in no fit state."

"We could touch each other. We could just lie here and touch each other."

He pulled her skirt up, let his fingers brush over her sex. Oh, this was torture.

"Marcus, the others are just outside. They could be here any moment."

"We are covered. Touch me."

The touch of his fingers was so sweet, so hot, that she gave in, and reached under his kilt for his cock, stroking it to the same rhythm he had set up, feeling it thicken and swell beneath her fingers.

Kane closed his eyes. "I thought I would die in there," he whispered.

"You did not die. You are alive." She kissed him, her tongue sliding into his mouth, finding his, tasting him, her fingers gripping his cock as her desire grew. He groaned.

"I am alive." His fingers stroked her faster, dipping in and out of her, setting her on fire.

"Yes. Yes, you are. Oh!" She came so quickly beneath his fingers she was shocked, her whole body buzzing at his touch, and she paused, her hand still clutching his cock, lost in the sensations he had produced.

"Abby. Don't stop!"

She started stroking him again, rubbing her thumb and forefinger over the head and the shaft.

"I am sorry," she said. "You made me feel so good. I lost myself."

"How did it feel?" He was breathing faster now, his eyes locked onto hers.

"It was hot. So hot. Like you had lit a flame in me." She drew closer to him, so that their heads were almost touching. "You do this to me. Every time. You bring me to life."

He came then, with a loud groan, emptying into her hand. "I cannot live without thee, Abby."

Tears sprang to Abby's eyes. She stroked his hair, brushing the tangled curls away from his eyes. "You won't have to."

"Ye are leaving me now."

"Only for a short while. I have to, you know that."

She pushed the cloak off them and grabbed a cloth to clean them both up before Raven or Blake came in and saw what they had been doing.

"I don't like the thought of you being with him. He is going to be so angry when he finds out I have escaped."

"Yes, he will, but not with me. He will think it is the clan that has bribed the guard. Sinclair will put that rumour out. Your job is to recover. Raven has given the clan orders to dismantle the camp and move so he can't find them. She will take you to the new site in a day or two."

"Ye have everything under control."

"Yes. You have taught me well."

"So I will see thee in a few days?"

"As soon as the camp is moved and you are fit to travel we will confront Alasdair with the papers together."

"Then I had better do as ye say and recover as quickly as possible."

"Yes. I have left everything Raven needs and she knows what to do. Eat. Drink. Let Raven take care of you."

She was surprised to see tears spilling down his cheeks. He had been through a lot over the last few days, beaten, left without food or water with only rats for company, thinking he was to die. She blinked her own tears away. She must be strong enough for them both.

She cupped his face, as he had so often done to her. "You are my strength and my courage."

He brought her hands to his lips. "And you are mine."

Abby nodded and smiled. She wiped a tear from his cheek, and then stood up, walking out of the cave without another word or a backward glance for fear that a longer goodbye would break her. Raven was coming down the path as she turned away from the cave. She gave Abby a hug.

"I will look after him, I promise."

"I know you will. He needs you, Raven. He needs your spirit and your energy. Send a message to Arkholm when he is ready to meet me."

Raven nodded and disappeared into the cave. Abby walked up the path towards Blake and Juno. She was heading into a difficult and dangerous situation with Alasdair. She had made light of it with Marcus, but she was terrified of his reaction, scared that he would hunt Marcus down before he had a chance to recover. She couldn't change what was going to happen; all she could do was keep calm, and stick to her plan. She took a deep breath. She was ready.


	16. Smoke and Mirrors

CHAPTER SIXTEEN – SMOKE AND MIRRORS

 **Kelso, Roxburghshire**

The journey back to Kelso was uneventful and Abby and Blake met up with Sinclair at the bridge close to the priory. Harper was with him and she smiled when she saw Abby.

"What is the news, Sinclair? Has Alasdair discovered Marcus is escaped?"

"Not yet, Abigail. He has not been down to the gaol. He has been busy arranging the site of the execution. There is a platform for Alasdair to sit on and view the proceedings and the gallows has been put into place. He means to have Kane brought directly to the market place."

"That is good. He will be humiliated in public, then."

"Aye, he will."

Abby smiled. This was going to be a good day. Harper had brought a change of clothes for Abby and they left the horses with the men and ducked behind the wall of the priory. Harper shielded Abby as best she could while she quickly stripped off her dirty blue dress and stepped into the dark green one Harper had brought.

"It was the darkest colour I could find, Mistress."

"You have done well. It's not as if there is a dress code for attending an execution."

Harper smirked, and then laughed and Abby joined in. It wouldn't be funny at all if Marcus were really about to be hanged, but knowing he was safe allowed them a moment of pleasure, a chance to let go of the tension that had built up since he was captured.

"How's my hair? How do I look?" Abby turned around so Harper could see her at all angles.

"Ye look like ye've been dragged through a hedge backwards."

"Oh! You had better fix it quickly."

Abby crouched while Harper rebraided her hair with deft fingers. After she had done she appraised Abby again.

"That is better, Mistress."

Abby looked at her reflection in the river. "It will do." There was still some dirt in her fingernails but that was nothing new, and her boots were still wet and uncomfortable but no one would notice that except for her, and she could live with it for a while longer. They returned to the bridge.

"I will take ye to the market place now," said Sinclair. "A crowd has been gathering all morning, and there is a surprise waiting for thee."

"A surprise? What is it?"

"It is not a surprise if I tell thee, is it? I think ye will be happy."

Abby couldn't think what kind of surprise would make her happy on the day a man was to be executed, but it wouldn't be long before she could find out. Blake took the horses to the stable and Abby and Harper followed Sinclair to the market place. It was a very different place to when she had last been here, when she had met Marcus in the stable. The stalls that were usually in the centre of the market place were squashed next to others lining the edges of the market. A raised wooden platform had been built with a tapestry hanging behind it and wooden chairs arranged on top. In front of this, in the middle of the cobbled square stood the gallows. It too was on a raised wooden plinth and had a trapdoor beneath. The noose hung down from the crossbeam, a thick knotted rope that was a dirty grey from overuse. Abby shuddered at the thought of Marcus standing there, a hood over his eyes so he couldn't see the faces of the people who loved him, and the rope placed around his neck and pulled tight. The thought made her feel physically sick. There were a few people already seated on the platform. She recognised the Sheriff, and the Abbot from the priory. There was another person seated, and even though their back was turned, Abby recognised the blonde hair and petite frame of her daughter. She felt a rush of emotions. Joy at seeing her again, and concern, because this was hardly the place for a reunion.

"Told ye there was a nice surprise," said Sinclair.

Clarke turned at the sound of his voice, and got up out of her seat when she saw Abby.

"Hello, mother."

Abby rushed towards her and enveloped her in a hug, stroking her hair. Clarke didn't like her being too demonstrative, and especially not since they'd disagreed over Blake, but this time she returned the hug. Abby kissed Clarke's forehead.

"It is so wonderful to see you!"

"I don't know why I had to find out about this from father. Why didn't you tell me what had happened to you?"

"Oh." Abby didn't know what to say. Of course Alasdair had bragged to Clarke about capturing the Grey Wolf, and the whole tale would have come out.

"Oh? Mother, I asked you if you were hurt in the raid and you said no, and now I find out that you were abused in the most vile way. You could have told me."

She put her arms around Abby again, and Abby let herself be drawn into the hug, but she was in turmoil inside. Clarke was upset for her, wanting to comfort her and Abby didn't know how to tell her that there was no need. How could she say that Kane was innocent without giving the whole game away? She wanted to be able to trust Clarke, but this was not the time or the place, not with Alasdair's humiliation imminent. Clarke would know immediately that Abby had betrayed him and there was no telling how she would react to that. She loved Alasdair, had no idea how he treated Abby because she had been shielded from it her whole life. She had to say something. Clarke had released her from the hug and was looking at her expecting an answer.

"I did not want to upset you, my darling."

"I'm your daughter!"

"I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to forget about it."

"Well at least he is captured now."

Abby nodded, the sick feeling she had experienced when she saw the gallows was back, only this time she felt it every time she looked at her daughter. Clarke was going to feel so betrayed when she found out the truth, but Abby would have to tell her, no matter what the consequences. As soon as she had a date for telling Alasdair, she would tell Clarke.

"Are you going to stay for a while, Clarke? It would be nice to have your company."

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Of course I do."

"What about Blake?" She scanned the market place, looking for the groomsman. "Am I allowed to talk to him if I see him?"

Abby sighed. She couldn't very well say no when only a few hours ago she was in the arms of her own unsuitable man.

"Very well."

"Pardon?" Clarke looked surprised, as though she had been expecting a no, or another argument.

"You may speak with him if you see him."

"I don't understand. What has brought about this change?"

"Let's just say I have seen another side to Blake recently, and he is a good man."

Clarke frowned but before she had a chance to reply there was a commotion near the castle and Alasdair appeared, followed by Sinclair, Blake, and a large man dressed in a black cloak, the hangman. Abby shuddered at the sight of him. The hangman crossed to the gallows and climbed the steps to the plinth. Alasdair made his way towards them, a broad smile on his face. For once Abby didn't have to force herself to smile back, it came easily to her, because she was thinking of what was about to happen.

"Clarke, my angel. How good of you to come and witness my triumph." Clarke moved in front of Abby to give Alasdair a hug.

"I am here to support mother as well."

"Of course, of course." Alasdair looked at Abby. "Abigail. You look presentable for once. Are you ready for today?"

"I am more than ready, Alasdair."

Alasdair nodded. "I am doing this all for you after all."

"I am most grateful. It should be a wonderful day."

She could feel Sinclair's eyes boring into her as she spoke, but she didn't look at him. He probably thought she was sailing close to the wind with her choice of words, but she didn't care. Meeting Alice, seeing how broken she was inside, and then coming home and seeing the damage Alasdair had inflicted on Marcus while he was defenceless had changed something inside Abby. She no longer cared what happened to Alasdair. He deserved everything he got.

They took their seats. Blake was standing behind Alasdair, and Abby saw Clarke glance at him, saw him smile at her; he couldn't hide his delight at seeing her, it was written all over his face. She knew that nothing she did could stop them feeling the way they did about each other any more than she could stop loving Marcus. Love was a powerful weapon, and when it hit you hard, it knocked you to the ground, and there was no getting back up from it.

"It is time." Alasdair's booming voice broke her from her thoughts and she watched as he nodded to Sinclair who went to the castle door and spoke to someone inside before returning to Alasdair's side. He glanced at Abby. She gave him the barest of nods in return. It was all about to happen.

Alasdair stood up and addressed the crowds.

"Today, I have the great pleasure of bringing before you a man who has terrorised the Borders for far too long. He and his clan of thieves and murderers have stolen from every Border family, robbing us as we innocently go about our business, raping our wives, killing our men. The man who will stand before you today, the so-called Grey Wolf, is the worst of them all, not least because he was formerly one of us. He had a life of wealth and privilege, and he gave it all up to become a reiver, a low-life good-for-nothing, and why? Because he is bad to the core, an evil monster who preys on innocent people. He is a wolf indeed, but I have captured him, I set a trap and he fell into it, and now he must pay for what he has done."

Abby listened to this speech with disgust. Sections of the crowd were applauding, because it was a rousing speech, making Alasdair seem like one of them, whilst at the same time being the only one who could capture the Grey Wolf.

The applause died down and then a silence fell while the crowds waited for the Grey Wolf to be brought out. Everyone was looking towards the castle door, including Alasdair. Abby's heart was beating so hard it was making her feel light-headed. She clutched Clarke's hand, and the girl squeezed it. Nothing was happening at the castle door, and murmurings swept through the crowd like a wind through a field of barley, whispers spreading, gaining volume.

Alasdair looked at Sinclair. "Go and see what is keeping them."

Sinclair left and entered the castle. Abby waited. She was caught up in the atmosphere of the crowd, which was excited, and she half expected to see Marcus walk through the door, even though she knew he would not. Sinclair came back out and walked over to Alasdair. Abby did not envy him the job he now had to do. He whispered to Alasdair but she could hear it.

"He is not there, My Lord."

Alasdair frowned. "What do you mean, he is not there? Of course he is there."

Sinclair shook his head. "He was not in his cell when the guard went to fetch him."

Alasdair grew red in the face. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. Abby folded her hand into a fist, stuck her nails into her palm so that she would not smile.

"He must be there. Search the castle!" His voice was raised now, and those of the crowd who were closest to the platform heard him, and a ripple of excitement spread through the market place.

"My Lord, a search has already been undertaken. He is not to be found."

"Then search again!" Alasdair stood up. He was shaking with rage. He pushed Sinclair out of the way as he marched towards the door. "Must I do everything myself!"

Clarke tugged on Abby's sleeve. "Mother, what is happening."

"I think the Grey Wolf has escaped."

"Oh, no!"

Abby squeezed her hand. "Don't worry, darling. He will be far away from here I am sure."

"Poor father."

"Yes. It is humiliating."

Time passed but no one moved. The crowd gossiped and jostled for the best position but no one left the market, too eager to hear the news they had already guessed. Alasdair returned and pushed his way through the crowd back to the platform. He cleared his throat.

"The Grey Wolf has escaped." A few cries went up, and some cheers and boos. "I promise you that I will hunt him down. No hiding place will be safe from me. He is as good as dead."

With that he turned and walked back into the castle, Sinclair hurrying after him.

Clarke looked at Abby. "What are we to do?"

"I am not certain. Alasdair will not be in the mood to see us I suspect. Perhaps it is best if we go home." She turned to Blake. "Will you accompany us to Arkholm?"

"Of course, Mistress. Is Miss Griffin going with you?"

"I am," said Clarke. "I will be staying for a few days."

"Very good, Miss." Blake bowed his head, a smile on his face.

"Fetch the horses, Blake," said Abby with a sigh. At least having to chaperone these two would keep her occupied for the next few days while Marcus recovered.

 **Arkholm Tower**

Abby sat in her favourite chair in the kitchen waiting for Alasdair to return. Clarke was in the stable, grooming the horses, or so she claimed. Blake was probably there as well, but Abby didn't have the energy to intervene. She hadn't slept in two days and was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. The heat in the kitchen didn't help, and she drifted away to the sound of meat sizzling on the griddle, the smell invoking childhood memories of the kitchen at her family home at Fountainhall, where the cook would fetch a stool for her to stand on so she could watch her prepare the meal. Her last thought before she fell asleep was that it wouldn't be long before she would have to do such things for herself, and for Marcus.

She was roused from her slumber by the clatter of many pairs of boots on the wooden floor above. Alasdair was home; she could hear him shouting and stomping around. She rose from her chair, gripping the arms for support as her legs were stiff and sore from two days of near-constant riding. She didn't get far before the door opened and Alasdair marched in, followed by Sinclair who was pale and sweating. Sinclair looked at Abby and grimaced.

"Get out!" Alasdair yelled to the cook and the maids who were preparing the dinner. They left in a rush, and Abby was left to face him with only Sinclair for company. She took a deep breath, and drew on the courage she'd spoken of with Marcus earlier that morning.

Alasdair paced the kitchen, shaking his head. He was red in the face and sweating as well. Abby had hoped he would have calmed down in the time since he had discovered Marcus had gone, but if anything he looked even more annoyed, as though he had spent the time working himself up into a fury.

"I don't understand what the hell happened back there! That guard was paid good money to make sure nothing went wrong. You gave him the money, didn't you?"

This was addressed to Sinclair, who nodded. "Aye, Sir. I did as you asked."

"Then someone must have paid him more, but who? I can't see that sorry clan of his getting enough money together." He stroked his chin as he walked, fingers rubbing rhythmically back and forth over the stubble, over and over again like a child stroking a blanket. The action wasn't calming him down, though. His breathing was heavy, and loud. "Who benefits from that Wolf being free?"

"Ye have many enemies, My Lord. Men who are envious of yer status and wealth. Perhaps they…"

Alasdair cut Sinclair off. "Perhaps, perhaps, but it feels more personal to me." He looked at Abby.

"What do you think?"

Abby was startled at being asked such a direct question. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

"I. I do not know, Alasdair. Perhaps Kane has wealth of his own that he had hidden."

"And live like he does? Why would he do that? No. Although…" Alasdair stopped walking and looked out of the window. "Perhaps he has sold something that he had in his possession. Something that belonged to me."

He spoke quietly, as though to himself. Abby remained silent, having decided not to speak unless spoken to and to keep her answers as minimal as possible.

"Yes, yes," he continued, his voice rising. "He has sold the papers, that must be it. But who has them? The Warden perhaps. Maybe Jaha has given them to the Warden after all. They have been working together all this time, fooling me, betraying me. Goddammmit!" He lashed out with his fist, hitting the window, the glass shattering around him, cutting his hand.

Abby went to him, her instincts to care wiping out any fear she had, and took hold of his hand which was dripping blood.

"Get off me, woman!" Alasdair flung his arm out to push her away, hitting her in the face as he did so, the blood from his hand splashing into her eyes, blinding her for a moment.

Sinclair rushed forward. "My Lady!"

"She is fine," said Alasdair. "Leave us."

"Sir."

"I said leave us!"

Abby laid her hand on Sinclair's. "I am fine. It is alright."

Sinclair shook his head. "No, My Lady. I am not leaving thee this time."

Alasdair had gone to the water bucket to wash the blood off his hand and Abby hoped he hadn't heard Sinclair's last words.

"I will be fine. Please, Sinclair." She tried to tell him with her eyes and the pressure from her hand that he was not to mess things up now, not when they were so close. He was battling with himself, she could see it in his face, which was twisted with grief and indecision. At last he made his decision, and squeezed her hand before stepping back.

"I will be in the hall if ye need me, Sir."

Alasdair ignored him. Abby wiped the worst of the blood from her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. Her face was stinging where he had caught her, but it had been a glancing blow, not as bad as it could have been.

She looked up to see Alasdair regarding her, his blue eyes looking her up and down, making her feel naked before him.

"This is all your fault," he said in a quiet voice.

Abby went cold, a sick feeling settling in her stomach.

"Alasdair. How is this my fault?"

"This all started the day he had you on the road from Edinburgh. He's been obsessed with this family ever since."

Abby didn't know what to say, but she didn't like where Alasdair was going with this at all.

"What really happened in those rushes?" He moved closer to her, and she stepped back, hitting the edge of the table, nearly falling over onto it.

"I told you what happened."

"No. You told me what you thought I wanted to hear. I want to know the truth."

"It was the truth, Alasdair."

He pressed himself against her. She was shocked to find him hard. He was enjoying this in some sick way she couldn't understand. He was bound to want to take her, and she didn't know how she was going to get out of it.

"I think the truth is you enjoyed it."

"No, Alasdair."

"Do you like it rough? Is that what I've been doing wrong all these years, treating you too kindly?"

Abby stifled a laugh. Kind was the last word she would ever associate with him. How deluded he must be, so full of his own self-importance that he had no idea how he treated her, or he didn't care.

"I did not enjoy it."

Alasdair played with the buttons on her dress, popping them in and out of their holes. "But he enjoyed you, didn't he? He must have otherwise he wouldn't be trying to get rid of me now. What did you do for him that you don't do for me?" He traced the swell of her breasts with his finger, pressing a little too hard with his nail so that it drew a thin line of blood. Abby ignored the pain.

"Nothing, I told you."

"You're a bloody liar. Well, we'll see how rough you like it." He unbuttoned the front of his trousers, reached in to take out his member. Abby's hands were behind her back, holding onto the table for support, and she felt around for a knife or anything that she could use as a weapon. She didn't care what the consequences would be; she was not going to let him take her. There was nothing close to hand, and she began to despair until she remembered what Marcus had told her to say.

"It is not the right time. I have my monthly blood. Ow!"

He had grabbed hold of her braid and pulled it so that her head snapped back. She tried to swallow the howl of pain that rose in her throat but she couldn't, it hurt too much and tears sprang to her eyes.

"Your monthly blood. Yes, you always have that, don't you? Every month for fifteen years. Disappointment after disappointment. Well, it doesn't matter. There are other ways."

He spun her so that she was facing the table, and pushed her forwards against it. He held the back of her neck, forcing her down so that her breasts were pressed painfully against the wood.

"Alasdair. There is no need for this. Let us go upstairs, to bed. I will do whatever you want." She kept her voice as calm as she could, soothing, compliant. She had no intention of going upstairs with him, but she had to stall him, to give her time to think, or run.

"You really are a whore, aren't you? How have I not seen this all these years?"

He was pushing her skirts up to give himself access when the door opened, banging against the wall as a gust of wind took it. Abby looked up. It was Clarke. She was standing in the doorway, staring at them open-mouthed, a look of horror on her face. Abby could feel Alasdair tucking himself back in, using her body as a shield so Clarke couldn't see what he was doing.

"Father?"

Alasdair pulled Abby up from the table, patted her on the back. "It is alright, angel. Your mother and I… We got carried away. I'm sorry you had to see that."

Clarke frowned. "Mother?"

Abby couldn't speak. Words just would not form in her mouth even though she wanted them to, wanted to reassure her daughter.

"Well," said Alasdair. "I'll leave you two to catch up. Just give us a moment, Clarke." He waved his hand to indicate she should wait outside. She did as she was told but she didn't go far, just to the other side of the threshold.

Alasdair dragged Abby to the far side of the kitchen. "You say a word to her and I will kill you. Don't think I won't. It would be a simple matter to have you fall off that damned horse and break your neck."

Abby nodded, still unable to speak, and Alasdair left the kitchen. Clarke came running in as soon as she heard the inner door close.

"What has happened? Why do you have blood on your face?" She touched Abby's face, fingers moving the hair out of her eyes where it had got matted with the blood.

"Clarke," was all she managed to say before bursting into tears, and falling into her daughter's arms. Clarke held her, rocking her as Abby had done to her to soothe her when she was a child. When Abby's sobs had subsided, Clarke stood back, holding Abby at arm's length while she studied her, taking in her face, the bruise on her cheek, her hair in disarray from where Alasdair had pulled it out of its braid.

"Has father done this to you?"

"That man is not your father."

"I know, but, he has always been. Oh, he has done this hasn't he? Why?"

"Why? He does not need a reason, Clarke."

"You mean he has done this before?" Clarke put her hand to her mouth in shock.

"Not for a long time, but he used to. Often."

"I did not know. Why didn't you tell me?"

"You love him, and I did not want to jeopardise that. You needed a father, and despite what he has done to me, he has always been good to you."

Clarke shook her head. "I appreciate that, mother, but there is so much you have kept back from me. The fact that the Grey Wolf raped you, that father has beat you. What else haven't you told me?"

Abby breathed in deeply and slowly to try and calm her racing heart. This was the moment, she could feel it. She had to tell Clarke about Marcus because it was all going to come out soon and she would be devastated if she found out that Abby had lied to her now.

"Perhaps we should sit down. Would you like some wine?"

"I don't want wine, mother, I want to know the truth."

"Yes, and I will tell you everything, but first I need a drink, it has been a trying day."

Abby poured them both some wine and they sat in silence while they sipped it. Clarke was impatient for Abby to talk and was tapping her foot on the floor under the table, but Abby needed time to find the right place to start.

"I have never been happy with Alasdair, you know that."

Clarke nodded, took another sip of wine. "I knew you didn't like him, but I didn't know why. I thought perhaps it was because he wasn't Jacob."

"No one could ever replace Jacob, but it was not that. He is not a good man, Clarke. He has an air of respectability but he does terrible things, he hurts people, and he hurt me, badly." Abby wasn't sure how much to tell Clarke. It would be overwhelming to tell the girl everything Alasdair had done all at once. It had taken Abby months to come to terms with it; she could not expect her eighteen-year-old daughter to understand and accept it all. She was going to be devastated enough as it was. She decided to keep things as simple as possible.

Clarke held her hands out to Abby across the table, and Abby took them. "I am so sorry that he hurt you. I cannot believe that he is capable of such things."

"No, and that is how he has got away with so much over the years, because no one can believe it could be true, but it is."

"There have been times, when I have heard him shouting at you, but he shouts at everyone. I never thought it was so bad. I do believe you. Is there anything to be done about it?"

"Do you think I should do something about it?" Abby wanted to gauge Clarke's feelings on the subject of bringing Alasdair to justice.

"Yes, but I don't know what you can do. It is like you always say to me. You cannot live any other kind of life."

"What if I could live another life? What if we both could?"

"What do you mean?"

Abby bit her bottom lip. There would be no going back from what she was about to tell Clarke. She looked around the kitchen to make sure that no one had sneaked in since Alasdair had left. They were alone. "I have been seeing someone. Another man."

"Pardon?" Clarke was open-mouthed for the second time that day. "Who?"

Abby took a sip of her wine. Her hand was shaking. "Marcus Kane."

Clarke's face was blank for a moment as the name sank in, and then she opened her eyes wide. "The Grey Wolf?"

Abby nodded.

"The man who raped you, who father meant to hang? Did you help him escape?"

"He didn't rape me, and yes, I helped him, but Clarke…"

Clarke had her hand to her chest; her breathing was rapid and shallow. Abby was worried she was going to faint. "How?"

"How did I help him escape?"

"No," said Clarke in between deep breaths as she calmed herself. "How is it that you are seeing him, a man like him?"

"I was unhappy Clarke, but I didn't realise how much until I met him. He showed me that there is joy in life, and love."

"You're in love with him! I don't believe this." Clarke stood up and went over to the window where Alasdair had stood earlier.

"Be careful, Clarke, there is broken glass."

Clarke turned to look at Abby. Her eyes were wide, and fierce. "He's a reiver, a thief. You surely don't think you can be with him?"

Abby stood up as well, and faced Clarke. She held her hands out to her daughter but Clarke ignored them. Abby dropped them again. "We are going to be together. We have a plan to…" She faltered under her daughter's stern gaze.

"You have a plan! How long has this been going on?"

"A few months."

"A few months! So when I visited, and we went to Kelso, were you seeing him then?"

"It had just begun, yes. Listen to me, Clarke." But Clarke was not for listening.

"I told you then that I was in love with Bellamy, and you told me it could not be, to find someone more suitable, and all the time you were seeing HIM, a man who has no money, no proper home, who is wanted for his crimes." She put her hand to her head and paced up and down the kitchen. "I can't believe you would do this to me."

Abby put her arm on Clarke's but the girl shrugged it off.

"Darling, you have every right to be angry. I was trying to protect you."

"You were protecting yourself."

"No. I only wanted what was best for you." Abby was beside herself at Clarke's reaction. This was going much worse than she had anticipated. She had expected Clarke to be angry, but she was furious, and devastated.

"You have betrayed father, and you have betrayed me."

"Oh, no, Clarke!" Abby cried, desperate tears flowing down her face.

"You are not my mother. I don't know who you are anymore."

"Clarke, you do not know the full circumstances. I should have been honest with you sooner, I know that, but Alasdair was determined to capture Marcus and I didn't know who to trust."

"Oh, so I am not to be trusted! A thief and a murderer she trusts, but not her own daughter. This just gets better!"

Abby cursed herself for her choice of words. "No, I didn't mean that I didn't trust you."

"Forget it, mother. I know where I stand now. I have to go and get some fresh air." She headed towards the door, and Abby followed her. She put her hand on Clarke's as she reached for the doorknob, stopping her from turning it.

"Clarke, I am sorry, so sorry. I love you, darling. Please don't leave like this."

"I am not leaving Arkholm, but I can't be with you right now."

Abby sighed. "I understand. Darling, I hate to ask you this." She didn't get to finish the sentence before Clarke interrupted.

"Don't worry. I won't tell father, but only because I don't want him to hurt you." Clarke lifted Abby's hand off hers, and opened the door.

"Thank you," said Abby, but her daughter was gone. She sat back down at the table, put her head in her hands, and cried.

 **The Hundred Camp, Broad Law, The Southern Uplands**

It took four days for the camp to be dismantled, moved and rebuilt. Winter had arrived; the first flutterings of snow settling on the ground as Kane surveyed his new surroundings. They had moved north and west, pitching camp deep in the forest at the foot of Broad Law in the Southern Uplands. It was further away from Abby, which was not ideal, but that also meant they were out of Alasdair's reach, at least that's what he hoped.

Raven helped him to his new dwelling. He was healing well but his stomach was still sore and his chest hurt when he breathed. He hadn't told Abby because he hadn't wanted to worry her but he thought he had cracked a couple of ribs during his beating. The bed rest had done him good, frustrating though it had been to lay still for so long, not knowing what was happening to Abby, what Alasdair was putting her through. Kane had wanted to get better as quick as possible so he had been patient, allowing Raven to cover him with potions and bandages, drinking the foul liquids Abby had prescribed. He had eaten better than he had in years, Raven catching pheasants and roasting them over the fire. He had recovered enough strength to be able to undertake the journey to Broad Law.

Now, as he stood in his new home, which was little different to his old one, he realised he was not ready for what was to come. He was ready for confronting Alasdair, it wasn't that. He wasn't prepared for Abby, for her being here in this humble dwelling, however temporary it might be until he had reconciled with his father. If Lord Robert wouldn't accept him back, then this would be their permanent home, as permanent as it ever could be. He couldn't expect her to sleep on that bed with its dirty furs and smelly straw mattress. There was nowhere for Abby to wash or dress or have any privacy. He went outside and called Raven to him.

"I need yer help."

"What can I do for thee?"

"I need to make this hovel fit for a Lady. Do ye have any ideas?"

"That's a tall order, Kane. It's a fleapit."

"Aye, thanks for pointing that out." Kane laughed.

"Hmmm. What do ye want for her?"

"A proper bed…"

"Oh, I see ye have yer priorities right!" Raven laughed and Kane gave her a raised eyebrow in return.

"Ye didn't let me finish. A proper bed and clean bedding, a table and a mirror, somewhere for her to wash and get dressed where she doesn't have to put up with me staring at her all the time. I don't know what ladies need. Ye're the woman here, work it out."

"Does she realise how different her life is going to be when she's here with thee? There's no bath and no maid, no nice clothes and fancy meat. She'll be a peasant like the rest of us."

"I doubt she has realised the extent of it, no, but that's why we have to make it as comfortable as possible for her."

Raven nodded. "I'm on it. I have an idea already actually that I've been working on. Something that will improve the cleanliness of everyone in the camp."

"That's my girl. Now, before ye put yer thinking cap on can ye get everyone together in the courtyard. I want to address the clan."

Raven went around the camp banging on doors, heading into the mess and the medic's hut. Kane pulled a cut log out from the pile and turned it upright so he could stand on it. It hurt him to bend down, and he had to breathe out through his mouth to ease the pain. When everyone was assembled he stood on the log and looked around. Most of the clan was here, even Murphy, lurking at the back with a scowl on his face.

"It's good to be back with ye, and to still have my neck in one piece."

Kane rubbed his neck as he said this and the men laughed.

"I know that many of ye were trying to organise a rescue after I was captured and sent to Kelso. I'm grateful fer that, even though I had help from elsewhere in the end."

"Who helped thee, Kane?" It was Murphy of course, always ready with spoon in hand to stir the pot.

Kane ignored him. "Ye've probably all realised by now that I was betrayed by Jaha. I'm sure rumours as to why have done the rounds but I can't tell ye about that just yet. What I can say, is that Jaha is not welcome back in The Hundred. As Second in Command, it is my duty to take on the leadership, and I am happy tae do it."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd as the men digested the news.

"So we're a man short now," said Monty. Do ye have any ideas as to who will replace him?"

"I want tae talk to ye about that. I want to make some changes to how we are run. I never knew why there had to be exactly a hundred people in the clan, and that is going to change. From now on, anyone wanting to join the clan can do so. The only stipulation, like before, is that they have to be in need of what we can offer, and that is support and shelter. Secondly, anyone who wants to leave, for whatever reason, can do so, without fear of reprisals. I only want people in our clan who want to be here, who _need_ to be here. If ye don't like it, ye know what to do."

He looked at Murphy as he said this, and the boy looked back at him defiantly.

"Finally, at least for now, and this is perhaps the biggest change, I am allowing women into the clan."

The men gasped at the same time as if they were one entity.

"I'm not talking about whores and such like. I mean any woman who, for whatever reason, needs to find safety, or shelter, or wants to live our life, will be welcome here."

"What about girlfriends?" said Jordan.

"Ha, as if ye're ever going to get a woman," replied Green, jostling his friend.

"Any man who wants to share his life with a woman, well as long as he is willing to make his own dwelling or find somewhere offsite to live, then that is acceptable."

"Women in the camp, Sir! Are ye sure this is a good idea? They only bring trouble." Wells did not look convinced and many of the men were shaking their heads.

"It is not the women who bring the trouble, it is the men who cause it, with jealousy and fighting. We will call it an experiment. If it does not work, then we will think again."

"Will ye be taking advantage of the new rules, Kane?" Murphy again. He was not going to give up.

"As ye don't believe a woman could ever see anything in me, that would be unlikely in yer eyes, would it not?" He looked away from Murphy, and addressed the crowd again.

"One final thing. Fer the time being, I am naming Raven as my Second in Command. He knows of my plans for the clan and he will be talking to ye over the next few days. Ye are dismissed."

Raven helped him down from the log. "Ye didn't have tae do that, Kane." She was smiling, though, beaming in fact.

"Ye're the best man fer the job. Are ye going to tell them ye're a woman, now that ye're allowed to be?"

Raven shook her head. "Not yet. It's a big step and I need tae think about it."

Kane put his hand on her shoulder. "Whenever ye're ready. I'll be here for ye."

"I know. I'd better get going. The new Heid of my clan has given me a lot of work tae do."

Kane smiled, and then entered his dwelling. He took some carvings he had made while he was confined in the cave, and arranged them on the window sill. There were two wolves, which were his family symbol, but he had carved a male and female, and thought of them more as him and Abby. He'd also carved another tree, in case she had thrown the last one away when she was angry with him. They didn't do much to brighten the room up, but they were a start. He was adjusting them into the right positions when there was a knock on the door.

"Enter."

He turned, and was surprised to see Blake standing in his doorway.

"Blake? Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly, Sir, but I do have tae tell ye some news."

"Come in, shut the door."

Blake did as he was asked and Kane held a chair out for him to sit in.

"Can I get ye a drink?"

"I'm fine, thank ye, Sir."

Kane stood behind the other chair; he was worried that if he sat down he wouldn't be able to get up again, his ribs were aching so much.

"What do ye have to tell me? Is Abby alright?"

Blake sighed, and Kane's heart skipped a beat. Something had happened to Abby and Blake didn't want to tell him.

"C'mon, son. Spit it out."

"She is well, but it is very tense at Arkholm and I am concerned about her. She keeps saying she is fine but I don't think she is."

"What has happened? Alasdair doesn't suspect anything, does he?"

"I don't know the whole story, but her daughter, Clarke is there. She was at the execution that never was and is staying at Arkholm. She told me that she walked in on Alasdair and the Mistress in a compromising position and that the Mistress had been beaten and she told Clarke about Alasdair's behaviour, and about you."

"Abigail had been beaten?" Fear and anger rose in Kane. That bastard! Kane had been worried Alasdair would take his anger out on Abby, but she had reassured him he would not. Kane cursed himself for ever allowing her to go back to that animal.

"Sinclair said it was an accident, that Alasdair lashed out and she was in the way and caught a blow to her face."

"It doesn't matter if it was an accident. And then what? He accidentally forced her into laying with him? That man!" Kane stomped around the room, ignoring the pain from his stomach and ribs. "At least she had Clarke as a comfort."

Blake coughed. "Erm, well, not exactly. Clarke was not happy to find out about you and her mother, because, well, the Mistress has forbidden her from seeing me for a long time, even sending her away so we could not be together."

"Oh." This was news to Kane. He had no idea Blake and Abby's daughter had anything to do with each other, and certainly not that Abby had forbidden Clarke from seeing him.

"Sir. I think ye need to come down to Arkholm. The Mistress isn't going to survive much longer. He's either going to kill her, or she's going to do something she will regret. She told Sinclair she would have stabbed him if there had been a knife to hand."

Kane put his head in his hands. What had happened over the last four days? Why did he let her go back? He had let himself get too far ahead in his thoughts, planning their victory celebration when the battle had not yet been won.

"I will come back with thee. Give me a moment to speak to Raven. There is food in the Mess. Ye are welcome to some while ye wait."

Kane pointed the Mess out to Blake and then went to find Raven. She was standing near the stream that ran through the west of the camp.

"Ah, there ye are," she said. "Wait 'til ye hear this. Fresh water, piped from the stream, and sent up into a pail or something by using a footpump like my bellows. I'll have tae think of a way of getting the water out slowly rather than in one go, but I think I can do it. There'll be a wooden shelter around, so no one will see Abigail when she washes. What do ye think?"

She looked up at Kane, pride at her own ingenuity shining in her eyes.

"Ye're amazing, Raven, as always. Listen, I have tae go. Abigail needs me. We're going to have to confront Alasdair now."

"Kane, ye're not fit enough to face him. What if ye have to fight?"

"Then I will fight, and I will win, and then afterwards you and Jackson and Abigail can fight over who gets to look after me."

Raven frowned. "I don't like it, Kane."

"She needs me, Raven."

Raven breathed out deeply. "Of course. Shall I come with thee?"

"No. I need ye here to look after the camp, and prepare my house. She's coming home, Raven."

Raven gave him a gentle hug, careful not to hurt him. "We had better meet again."

Kane smiled. "We will."

 **Arkholm**

Kane was resting in a house in the village of Arkholm that belonged to Blake's family. Blake's sister, Octavia, was fussing over him, bringing him hot poultices to lay over his chest and stomach. He wasn't sure they were going to do much good in the short time he had to rest, but they were warming, and he needed something. The journey had been so painful he had thought he would faint more than once as they cantered along over the uneven ground. He hadn't been able to gallop because the pain was too great, so it had taken them hours longer than it should have to reach the village.

"Can I get you anything, Mr Kane?" Octavia was hovering near the door, watching Kane. Everyone in Blake's family had been excited to find the Grey Wolf in their midst. It was humbling to Kane to see the regard in which these people held him. He hadn't realised until now how much the little help he was able to give to people was needed, and appreciated. An idea was forming in his head as he lay looking at the ceiling, trying not to breathe too deeply, or cough, or do anything to disturb his aching body. He needed to discuss his idea with Abby, see what she thought, but he suspected she would be thrilled with it, for it would give her a domain of her own, somewhere she could use all the skills she had developed but had barely used until she'd met Kane. He was looking forward again, getting carried away with the thought of a life with Abby and all the promise that held. They had the problem of her husband to deal with first of all. Raven had given Kane the papers she had found at Lightwater Castle but they weren't in his pouch this time. He had copied one laboriously by hand while he was resting in the cave, and that was in his pouch as proof. The others were hidden under the floorboards in the bedroom he was currently lying in.

He realised Octavia had asked him a question and he hadn't yet answered it.

"Do ye think ye could help me put my shirt on?"

Octavia shook her head. "Bellamy said I wasn't to let ye leave under any circumstances."

"I'm not going to leave. I just need to be ready, in case."

Octavia hesitated, one foot over the threshold, the other outside. Kane decided to put the pressure on, which was unfair as she was only a wee lass, but needs must.

He looked up at her, made his eyes big and wide, the way Archie looked at him when he wanted a treat. This look had never failed Kane yet, just as it had never failed Archie. "Please, Octavia. I can't manage it by myself."

She sighed, biting her lip as she decided whether she should give in to Kane or obey her brother. Kane won, as he knew he would.

"Very well, but don't tell Bellamy I helped ye."

"I won't."

"I should refresh yer bandages first. If I pull 'em really tight they might hold ye together better."

"How do all ye Arkholm girls know so much about healing?"

"The Mistress shows Harper, and Harper shows us. Lots of us know how to heal."

"Then do that, and I will be good as new."

Octavia took the new bandages out of the poultice where they had been soaking. "Ye had better stand up. If I pull 'em tight, ye won't be able tae sit down again without loosening them."

"I won't be sitting down again for a while."

She wrapped the warm bandages around him and pulled them so tight Kane could hardly breathe.

"Ye're going to leave aren't ye, without Bellamy?"

"I can't lie here any longer, Octavia. Anything could be happening to the Mistress in that tower."

"Bellamy won't let anything happen to her."

"He's a good man, yer brother, but Alasdair is not an enemy to take lightly."

"Ye don't have tae tell me that."

"No. Sorry. I know what ye went through."

"I had a lucky escape. I hope ye get him."

"I just want the Mistress out of there, and safe."

Octavia nodded as she pulled Kane's shirt over his head and tucked it into his kilt. Then she helped him slip into his jacket.

"There. Ye look almost human."

"Thank you, Octavia."

"I'll show ye the quiet way to the tower."

"No. I don't want ye to put yerself at risk."

"Kane. Have ye learned nothing about the Blake family? We don't do anything by halves. I'm helping ye, and that's that."

Kane followed Octavia as she led him through the twisting alleyways and back streets of Arkholm village. It was early evening, but the streets were dark and empty, the snow lying a foot deep on the ground, deadening the sound of their footsteps as they approached the barmkin walls. Kane doubted the watchmen who were up on the high battlements would be able to see anything in the poor light.

"There is the main gate," said Octavia. "Ye're not going to get beyond here without Bellamy or somebody to help ye. Ye can't climb over it, and there's no other way through the walls."

"Will ye be able to get in? Ask to see yer brother perhaps?"

"I have been banished from the tower. It would depend on who was on guard duty."

"There's no need fer that," whispered a voice behind them. Kane jumped, and then relaxed when he saw it was Blake. "I told ye to stay put, and I told THEE to look after him." He looked at Kane and then Octavia as he spoke.

"It's not Octavia's fault," said Kane. "I forced her to help me."

"Aye, I bet she needed a lot of persuading. Get thee home, I'll take it from here."

Octavia gave a thumbs up gesture to Kane, presumably as a good luck sign, and then disappeared into the darkness.

"I went to fetch thee, but ye had already gone," said Blake. "It is time. The Master is in his study on the second floor and the Mistress is in the kitchen. I have told her ye are here. She's waiting for ye."

"Good." Kane was ready in spirit, even if his body was slow to respond. It was time they put an end to Alasdair's tyranny over Abby once and for all.

Blake opened the gate and slipped through. After a moment, he returned and gestured for Kane to follow him. They headed across the courtyard to the entrance. The tower loomed up above Kane, dark and foreboding. Blake opened the heavy outer door, and the iron yett that lay behind it. A set of stairs leading down were immediately in front of them and Blake descended. Kane followed and at the bottom of the stairs Blake opened a door into a room that was flooded with a warm light from many candles, and smelled of herbs and spices. Abby was sitting at the far end of a long table and she stood up as Blake and Kane entered. Kane walked towards her. He could see the bruise on her face, just below her eye. She looked so small and vulnerable to him. Her hair was down and she was dressed in a brown dress with silver brocade and sleeves that were made of some translucent material. Her face crumpled as he approached her, and he took her in his arms as her tears flowed, wetting his jacket. He hugged her tight, hardly noticing the pain it caused, so happy he was to have her in his arms.

"My love," he said.

She didn't speak, just sobbed, and he let her cry it all out. She needed to do it, so that she could then gather her strength for what was to come.

When she drew back from him he thought his heart would burst at the sight of her, face damp and eyes bright with tears. She looked at him with such love he was overwhelmed.

"I am ready," she said.

"Have ye packed some things?"

"Yes. Blake has them hidden in a cart in the stable."

"That's good."

She took his hand. "Let's do this."

Blake slipped ahead of them to go and hitch their horses to the cart, so that it was ready for them. Abby led Kane up the stairs to the second floor. They stopped outside the door, and embraced, "We're in this together," whispered Kane. Abby nodded, and then turned the handle. Abby stepped into the room first, with Kane close behind. Alasdair was seated at the far end, behind a huge oak table. He looked up at the sound of the door opening. He looked surprised to see Abby, and then his surprise turned to a frown, and then a look of pure shock as he recognised Kane.

"What the hell is this?"

"I think you know that this is Marcus Kane," said Abby. "The Grey Wolf. He's my lover."

"He's your what?" Alasdair's face was turning a shade of pink.

"You heard me."

Alasdair was so shocked he was rendered speechless. His mouth gaped like that of a fish gasping for air as it wriggled on the fisherman's hook.

Kane stepped forward, and Alasdair stood up, feeling around his person for a weapon or something to defend himself. His belt with his knife hanging from it was slung over the chair on the opposite side of the desk. He looked at it but did not move towards it.

"I am not here to hurt thee," said Kane. "Not unless ye make me."

"What is going on, Abigail? What is this man doing here?"

"He's here to support me. I want a divorce, Alasdair."

Alasdair laughed. "You are in jest, surely!"

"I am not. I have been seeing Kane for months now, and I want to be with him. I want you to let me go."

"What in hell makes you think I'm going to let you go, with him of all people? I bloody well KNEW something was going on with you!"

"I don't care what you knew, or what you didn't know. You're going to let me go, or I'm going to tell the King and the whole country what you have been up to."

Kane glanced at Abby. She was stood stock still, straight and determined. She had a defiant look on her face. His heart ached with pride. He had never loved her so much.

Alasdair laughed again. "What do you know about what I've been up to? Your lapdog here has already threatened me with this and I am still waiting for him to produce the proof."

"Ye didn't give me much chance to give ye proof when ye were beating me in the castle."

"Shut the fuck up," snarled Alasdair to Kane. "I'm talking to my wife."

"I have proof," said Abby. She reached in her pouch for the paper Kane had given her as they left the kitchen. "This is a copy of one of the papers. I have more, but they are not here. They are in a safe place. If anything happens to me, or to Kane, the people who are guarding them know exactly what to do with them."

She held the paper out to Alasdair, who snatched it from her, barely glancing at it before he threw it on the desk.

"You're out of your depth here, Abigail. If you go any further, you'll drown. Step back now, destroy the papers, and we'll say no more about this."

Alasdair stepped to one side, so that the desk was no longer between him and Kane and Abby. Kane put his hand on his ballack knife, just in case.

"It is not me who is out of my depth, Alasdair. You have defrauded the King. I have the proof, and I will give it to the King if you don't give me what I want."

"I am never letting you go." Alasdair's words were almost a whisper. Kane had to lean forward to hear them.

"Why not?" said Abby. You don't love me. You have never loved me."

"I have always loved you. I loved you when you didn't even know I existed, when all you could do was make eyes at my brother."

Abby shook her head, a frown on her face. "What are you talking about?"

"You never noticed me. We were almost the same age but all you were interested in was Jacob. You should have been mine. Father promised me you would be mine, and then your mother died and left you an inheritance and suddenly you were good enough for Jacob, and not for me."

Abby was flummoxed by Alasdair's words, Kane could tell. "I never had an inheritance," she said.

"Oh, you did. It was promised to my father if Jacob married you, and so it was."

Abby turned to Kane, a look of utter shock and despair on her face. "Jacob loved me."

Alasdair sighed. "Yes, he did, and that was the twist of the knife in my gut. Not only did he get a woman who loved him, but he loved her as well."

"I cannot help it if Jacob and I loved one another."

"No," replied Alasdair, "but you could have tried to love me, once we were married."

"I did try to love you, but it's hard to love someone when they beat you, and denigrate you. How is that love? How was I supposed to know you loved me when you treated me like that?"

Kane didn't like the way this conversation was heading. There was something Alasdair was holding back, he could sense it. He wanted to wrap this meeting up and be on their way. He reached out to Abby, touched her arm.

"Abby," he said.

Alasdair came flying towards him, knocked his hand away from Abby's.

"Don't touch her," he screamed.

Kane drew his knife, held it towards Alasdair.

"Marcus, don't," said Abby.

"Marcus, is it?" cried Alasdair. "I am not letting this man take you away from me, Abigail, not after everything I've done to have you."

"What have you done to have me? All you've done is hurt me!"

"I have loved you!"

"No, you haven't!"

"I have! I have! I have loved you so much."

"Well, where is the proof of your love, Alasdair? Is it in the bruises you give me, the scars?"

"No!"

"Then what is it?" Abby and Alasdair were screaming at each other now, loud enough for the whole village to hear. The tension in the room was so thick Kane could hardly breathe.

"I killed for you, that's your proof." Alasdair was red in the face, breathing heavily. Kane couldn't believe what he had just heard. Abby was open-mouthed. There was silence for a moment.

"What do you mean, you killed for me?"

Alasdair returned to his seat, slumping in it. "Jacob. I killed Jacob for you, so I could have you. My own brother. I poisoned him, slowly, so you wouldn't suspect, and even after I did that you didn't want me. You've never wanted me."

Kane was so shocked he couldn't speak. He looked at Abby. She was staring at Alasdair, her face pale, her eyes large. He waited for her to speak, but she was silent, unmoving, until suddenly she pitched forward, her hand reaching for the chair. She was going for the knife, but Kane realised it a fraction too late. She whipped it out of its scabbard, and lunged at Alasdair. She got his hand, stabbing the knife in and out of it in quick succession. Kane grabbed her as she raised the knife again, aiming for Alasdair's chest, and pulled her hand back.

"Let me go, Kane," she screamed.

He tightened his grip, dragging her away from Alasdair, the knife still held tightly in her hand. Alasdair was shouting for Sinclair, but in vain, because Kane knew the guard had made himself scarce long before.

"Abby. Ye dinnae want to do this. Don't give him a motive to hang ye."

"I don't care! He killed Jacob."

"I know, I know, and he will pay, but not like this."

Kane pulled her into his arms, held her tight so she could not move. She tried in vain to escape him, kicking him, trying to punch him but he held her fast. At last she slumped in his arms, but Kane was not fooled. He had seen this tactic before. As soon as he relaxed and loosened his grip she would be away, and she would kill Alasdair, Kane had no doubt.

He turned to Alasdair. "Ye are going to let us go now, and ye are not going to come after us. If Clarke wants to come with her mother, ye will let her. If ye leave us alone, we will leave thee alone, even though ye deserve to hang for all the terrible things ye have done. My clan is watching thee. If ye hurt one more woman, do one more false deal, we will see it, and these papers will make their way to every Sheriff in Scotland and England, to the Wardens of the West and East Marches and to the King of Scotland and the Queen of England. Ye will be dead before ye know what is happening. Are we clear?"

Alasdair nodded. Kane looked at him, this fat, odious man, slumped in his chair.

"Ye disgust me."

He kept a tight hold of Abby as he walked to the door, opening it and heading down the stairs on shaky legs. Blake was waiting in the courtyard. He blanched when he saw Abby slumped in Kane's arms.

"Is it done?" he whispered.

"Aye. But it was a bad business. If ye need a refuge, ye know where to come. Sinclair as well."

Blake nodded and opened the gate. Kane got into the seat at the head of the cart and Blake helped Abby up beside Kane. Her shoulders were heaving with silent sobs and Kane put his arm around her as they set off out of the courtyard, away from Arkholm, and towards their new life. The hope and joy he had felt earlier when he thought of this moment had gone. It was not triumphant; it was devastating. Alasdair had taken more from Abby than either of them had ever thought, and Kane wasn't at all certain she would be able to come back from this. He wrapped a blanket around them and pulled Abby closer to him and headed north, towards home.


	17. Hope in the Darkness

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – HOPE IN THE DARKNESS

It was the early hours of the morning when they finally reached the camp. Abby had cried herself to sleep on Kane's shoulder, and he hadn't dared move for fear of waking her. His arm had gone dead long ago but he wanted her to sleep, so that she would be clear-headed when she woke, and not go haring off to kill Alasdair. He slipped out of the cart, rubbing his arm to get feeling back in it, and then gathered her up and carried her to his dwelling. She was light as a feather, but the pain in his stomach and chest was terrible nevertheless. He persevered. Inside was the same as he had left it, except Raven had put fresh furs and a new mattress on the pallet he slept on. He laid Abby down on the bed and then lit a fire in the pit so he could boil some water and make a drink from the lemon balm. He needed something warm and soothing after the night he had been through. He sat at his table and sipped the drink, thinking about Alasdair and what the best course of action would be. The man deserved to be punished, but now that Abby was here with Kane, he found that all he wanted was to keep her safe forever, and for them never to have to see Alasdair again. It was not up to him, though. He would have to see what Abby wanted to do.

"Marcus?"

He looked towards the bed. Abby was awake and was looking at him. He went over to her, knelt on the floor by the bed, and stroked her hair.

"Abby. Ye should try to sleep some more."

"Will you get in here with me?"

"Of course." He took his boots and his jacket off and she moved over towards the wall so he could slip in next to her. He pulled the furs over them and took her into his arms. She laid her head on his shoulder and he kissed the top of it. She was crying again, silently; her whole body shaking. He held her tighter, rocking her a little to try and soothe her. Her sobs subsided after a while and she eased back from him so she could look at him. He wiped the tears from her face, and kissed her lips.

"I'm so sorry, Abby."

She nodded. "I don't understand it, Marcus. Why did he do it? How could he do something like that?"

"He wanted thee all to himself, I suppose. He was consumed with jealousy."

"But to kill someone, his own brother!"

"Wars have been fought over less. I'm not condoning him, I'm just saying the human heart and mind is complicated, and not always rational."

Abby shook her head. "It is more than that. He claims to love me, but you know how he has treated me. Why would anyone do that to someone they love?"

"I don't know. He is sick, a sick, twisted man. Perhaps in his mind it was his way of keeping ye with him."

"That makes no sense. I am more likely to want to be with him if he treats me well, than if he treats me poorly."

"Maybe he wasn't confident about that. I don't think there is a rhyme or reason to it, Abby. He is evil and twisted, and we can wonder until the cows come home, but we will never understand, because we are not like him."

"I need to tell Clarke."

"She probably knows by now. Our meeting with him was not quiet."

"No, Marcus. He will twist it, he will make it all seem my fault, I know he will." Her eyes were wide with panic. Kane stroked her face to calm her.

"Abby. I will send a message to Blake as soon as it is light. He will tell her the truth, I promise."

She curled into him again. "Thank you," she whispered.

"What for?"

"For being there for me."

"Oh, Abby. I would go to the moon and back for thee, ye know that." He kissed her head again. "Now try and go to sleep."

Abby had slept for hours in the end, exhausted no doubt from the emotions of the day before. Kane had been up and outside, spoken to Raven, got some food from the Mess and was sitting at his table, writing, by the time she awoke.

"Morning," she said, and he turned to see her swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

"Morning," he replied. He got a thrill from seeing her getting up from his bed, and then felt guilty for feeling happy, when the circumstances were so sad. He couldn't help his feelings, though; these were the moments he had longed for. She was shivering because she only had her dress on, and he fetched her cloak, wrapping her in it before leading her to the table.

"There are oatcakes, and some cheese. Would ye like some?" He pushed a plate towards her.

"I am not hungry."

"Ye should eat something, Abby. It is not the hard cheese ye had before, ye don't have to worry about sucking it in front of me."

Abby smiled. "I would not worry about that now." She broke a piece off an oatcake and ate it. "These are good."

"We have two cooks, but we all pitch in when we can."

"I shall have to learn how to make them, so I can play my part."

"Ye don't have to think about that for a while. But I will teach thee, when the time is right."

"What are you writing?"

Kane took a deep breath. "I'm recording Alasdair's confession from last night. I'm sorry to do it, but it needs writing down."

"I shall never forget it."

Kane put his arm on hers. "Nor shall I, but we need a record, just in case it ever comes in useful."

"What are you going to do today?" asked Abby, deftly changing the subject.

"Raven is coming along shortly. I thought the two of ye could discuss what ye need to make this place more suitable for ye. Then I will go to the market in Peebles and get it. In the meantime, I have some clan business to attend to. I'm the Heid now."

"Don't spend money you can't spare on me, Marcus. I am happy just to be here with you."

"It is my money, that ye got from Alice. I want to spend it on thee."

"I told you already that nice things don't make people happy."

"Abby. I'm not talking about buying ye a chandelier. Ye don't even have anywhere to hang up yer clothes. Ye can't just throw them on the floor like I do. I will only buy practical things that we can't make ourselves. How is that?"

She leaned across and kissed him. "I appreciate what you are doing for me."

"I will do anything for thee, but I'm also doing this for us. We both deserve to be happy."

"And we are." She kissed him again, with more passion, her hands on his face, holding him to her. He was leaning into the kiss when there was a scraping sound and the door opened. They sprang apart, and Kane turned to see Raven standing there with her hands over her eyes.

"Ye're going tae have to start knocking, Raven."

"Aye. Sorry."

"It was only a kiss," said Abby.

"Thank heavens for that. Ye could have ruined me fer life." Raven came into the room, bowing theatrically. "I'm here for yer consultation, My Lady. I take it Kane's told ye we're going to redecorate?"

Abby laughed. "Yes, he has."

Kane stood up. "I'll leave ye both to it. Bring yer list to me once it's done and I'll get the supplies." He kissed Abby on the lips and Raven on the cheek and walked out of the door. He was glad Raven was here. She was just the tonic Abby needed to take her mind off everything that had happened.

"Well, Abby, let's get to it," said Raven when Kane had gone. "Is it alright to call thee Abby? Kane likes to use that for ye himself, doesn't he? He hasn't told me; I just noticed he calls thee Abby but when he mentions ye to me he always says Abigail."

Abby smiled. "It was an intimate name between us, but I have grown fond of it now. I think Abigail is the past."

"Aye. And Abby is the future."

Abby put her hand on Raven's arm. "I hope so. I'm sure Marcus won't mind."

"I'm not calling him Marcus. It just doesn't seem right. Ye can keep that name for yerself."

"I am happy with that," said Abby. "Where do you want to start with the list?"

"Tell me everything yer heart desires, don't hold back, and we'll write it down. Then we can discuss what is achievable.

The morning passed quickly as Abby and Raven made plans for Kane's home, or rather their home, as she must start thinking about it. Abby had never been consulted about any of the purchases or decorations for Duns House or Arkholm Tower, so it was a new experience to think about what she needed, and talk through her ideas with Raven. She enjoyed it immensely, and by the time they had refined the list she was desperate to get started on the work.

"Is there anything we can do today, to make a start?" The project was providing a distraction from the terrible thoughts about Jacob and Alasdair that were pushing at the edges of Abby's mind, and she wanted to prolong the experience, keep the thoughts and feelings at bay, for fear they would overwhelm her.

"We could whitewash the walls, that will make them brighter. I can show ye how to make the wash and the brushes and we could do that. Let me take the list to Kane and I'll bring the materials back."

She returned a few moments later and beckoned Abby outside, but Abby didn't want to leave the sanctuary of the room.

"Oh, Raven. I don't want to see anyone yet."

"There's no one around. Ye'll be fine. We can't make up the wash indoors. There will be fumes."

Abby peeked outside. She had not seen the camp yet, and Raven was right, it was very quiet. Their house was at the north end of a quadrangle, around which were four long dormitories. At the south end was another building with a red cross on one door and a sign saying Mess on another. The third door had no sign on it. She wondered if that was where Marcus was working. Outside her house was a barrel and three buckets. Raven lifted the lid off the barrel and showed Abby its contents, which was a white powdery substance.

"This is the quicklime," said Raven, "and we get some of this and put it in the bucket, then we add salt from here." She shovelled a large wooden spoon into another bucket and added it to the quicklime. "Then we add water, and we have a whitewash. Stir until it is all dissolved." She added the water and gave Abby the spoon to stir the mixture.

"I make the brushes from horse hair." She showed Abby a large brush packed tightly with coarse hairs tied to a stick with twine. "Now all we have to do is dip the brush in the whitewash and get it on the walls. Shall we do it?"

Abby nodded. She was excited to be doing something practical. She hoped Marcus wouldn't mind them making such a big change to the inside of his house, but he had said she could do what she wanted, and white walls would reflect what little light came into the room so much better than the wood.

"Ye'd better change yer clothes, Abby. It's a messy job."

Abby changed into her slip which was the only item of clothing she had that she could move freely in, and she and Raven got to work painting the walls. It was a tiring job but ultimately satisfying, and when the last brush stroke had been added, they sat down on the bed to survey their handiwork.

"It looks so much better, Raven. Thank you for helping me with this."

"Ye're welcome. It will brush off on yer clothes though, if ye get too close, so no taking Kane up against the wall."

Abby blushed. "Raven!"

Raven laughed. "C'mon, Abby. A man like him! I'd never leave him alone."

"I have never known such a man before," replied Abby.

"I bet ye haven't." Raven smirked.

"Stop it, I am serious," said Abby, but she was smiling. She had never been the type of person who shared confidences easily. Never gossiped with the other wives as most of the Ladies used to do. There was something about Raven that made it easy to talk to her, even though she was probably half Abby's age. She had an open face that invited honesty, and a big heart.

"There's no one else like Kane, that's certain."

"He has changed my life."

Raven put her hand on top of Abby's. "Aye, and for the better."

Abby nodded, tears pricking her eyes again.

"Has Kane told you what happened last night?"

"Aye. Ye don't mind that he told me, do ye? It was just to stop me putting my big foot in my mouth when I saw thee."

"I don't mind, Raven. I would have told you myself anyway."

"What a bastard! Ye should have stabbed him in his bollocks, Abby."

"In his what?"

"Ye know, his balls, his dangly bits."

"His bollocks! I have never heard that name. Oh, Raven." Abby started laughing.

Raven snorted. "Ye know that's why Kane's knife is called a ballack knife, don't ye?"

"What, no. Why?"

"Because the pommel on the handle looks like a pair of bollocks." Raven could hardly get the words out for laughing.

"Really?"

"Aye, have a look next time ye see it."

Once Abby started laughing again she couldn't stop. Raven's shoulders were heaving. Tears were pouring down both their faces. Neither of them heard the door open, or saw Kane walk in.

"Ye're working hard I see."

Abby jumped at the sound of Kane's voice, and looked up. He was standing in the middle of the room, hands on hips, an amused look on his face.

"Excuse me," said Raven, "but we've whitewashed the entire house whilst ye've been sitting on yer backside."

Kane looked around. "It looks beautiful. Ye've done a great job."

Abby felt a surge of pride that he was pleased with it. "I'm glad you like it."

"I do. And I haven't been sitting on my backside. Well, not all day. I've been to Peebles and got some of what ye asked for. Do ye want to help me unload the cart?"

They went outside where the cart was standing with Juno in harness. Abby went up to the horse and kissed her, rubbing her nose and mane. "I'm so happy you're here with me, My Lady." She looked in the back of the cart. It was loaded with crates and pieces of furniture.

"Marcus. I thought you were only going to get things you couldn't make yourself," she said as Raven unloaded a small oak table and took it into the house.

"I may have got carried away, don't be mad," replied Kane.

"What is this?" Abby pointed to a large metal object that was a series of bars.

"It's a bed frame. I have tae put it together."

"It looks expensive."

"Not really." Kane jumped down from the cart, and put his arms round Abby's waist, pulling her towards him. "Have ye ever thought that perhaps I enjoyed lying in yer comfy bed so much that I wanted one of my own?"

Abby had not thought of that, hadn't really considered his needs at all in this. She had simply assumed he was happy with the way he lived his life.

"No, I didn't think of that, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Ye have given me a reason to do it, that is all."

He kissed her, his hands sliding down to grip her arse, press her to him. "Ye really shouldn't be wearing just that slip ye know. I cannae be held responsible for what it makes me do," he whispered as he kissed her neck just below her ear.

Abby looked down in surprise. She had forgotten she was only in her undergarments.

"I had better put on something more suitable!"

"Oh, Abby, no!"

She slipped out of his arms. "Yes. But perhaps later…" She gave him a backwards glance as she walked to the house, smiling as she saw him shifting uncomfortably, putting his hands in front of his kilt to hide his excitement as Raven came marching back out for the next load.

It was dark by the time they had unloaded the cart. The house was full of crates and furniture placed randomly. Kane had put the bed together, but it was so much bigger than his small pallet bed, the mattress was like a tiny island in the middle of it. The three of them were slumped in chairs, surveying the scene and drinking whisky.

"Here's to yer new home," said Raven, raising her goblet.

"Thank you for all your help today. I enjoyed it," said Abby.

"Ah, ye're welcome I told ye." She drained her goblet, and set it down on the table. "I should be going."

"Before you go I want to ask you something. Do you think you could make smaller brushes, for painting?"

"Painting pictures?"

Abby nodded.

"I didn't know ye could draw."

"I used to draw a lot when I was a young girl, flowers mostly."

"I can make ye some brushes. It's not the time of year to make up paints. The plants we'd need for pigments aren't flowering, but I can get ye some charcoal, and some parchment if ye like."

"I would love that, Raven, thank you."

Raven left, and Kane and Abby were alone at last.

"I'm glad ye enjoyed yerself today," said Kane.

"Raven was a welcome distraction, and now I have all of this to sort out." She looked around the room, and smiled.

"Ye can talk to me anytime ye want, ye know, or to Raven, if ye prefer."

Abby walked over to Kane, and sat astride him on the chair. "I know, and I will." She put her arms around his neck, and kissed his nose. "But right now, I want to enjoy this moment with you. Our first proper night together, in our home."

Kane moaned at her words, and she leaned forward and captured his lips in a deep kiss. He slid his arms up her back, caressing her. Without breaking the kiss, Abby moved his kilt to one side and took his cock in her hand, stroking it to make it swell, before holding it steady so she could sink down on him.

Kane groaned. "I always like it when we do it this way."

"Like the first time," Abby whispered.

"Aye. I knew ye would be mine one day."

"I am yours," she said, as she rocked up and down on him. He was hitting that spot again, every thrust sending ripples of pleasure through her. She took control, pressing down on his chest to keep him in place, and Kane let her ride out her pleasure on him, his thumb circling her sex, his other hand on her arse, keeping her steady.

She cried out when she came, the waves coming from so deep within her they seemed to take forever to reach her limbs. Kane lifted her up while she was still pulsing around him and laid her on the bed. She wrapped her legs tight around his back, urged him on faster and harder. She was surprised to feel another wave coming on, this one sharper and more intense.

Kane was close to his own release; he always lost control at the end, his movements becoming erratic, his groans loud and unfettered. He said her name as he came, whispering it over and over again.

Afterwards they lay in each other's arms, squashed together on their tiny mattress island. It was wonderful to think that there was no one to bother them, no need to worry that someone would burst in on them, find them out.

"We are free," said Abby, as Kane was brushing her hair away from her face.

"Aye," he said, kissing her forehead. "We are."

They spent a sevenday holed up together in the house, Kane only leaving to go to work, Abby not leaving at all. She still didn't feel up to meeting anyone else in the clan. Sorting out the furniture kept her busy for the first couple of days and keeping the house clean, sweeping it, beating the furs, refreshing the bedding took more time than Abby had ever thought possible. Raven kept her company as often as she could, showing her how to make a few basic meals over the fire and Abby had been very proud to serve Marcus a potage she had made. He had pronounced it delicious even though she knew she had cooked the vegetables to a mush and forgotten the salt. She was confident she would get better though; she was used to making potions after all and it was not much different. She just had to practice. They had lain together so often both of them were sore and tired and Marcus had declared last night that he needed a break to recover. "Ye have worn me out, Abby" he had said, and she had laughed and felt secretly pleased at the same time. It was still a new experience to be so desired.

She had cried for Jacob every day, waiting until she was on her own to let the tears flow because she didn't want to spoil the happy times with Marcus with her grief. She knew he wanted her to talk to him about it, but she wasn't ready for that yet. It didn't seem right to talk about how robbed she felt, of a life with Jacob, to the man whom she would never have met if Jacob were still alive. It was confusing mourning her dead husband while feeling so happy with Marcus. She couldn't have that conversation with him yet, but knowing he was there when she wanted him was all the comfort she needed.

It had snowed for most of the week, finally stopping yesterday with the grey skies giving way to blue. Marcus had said it was time to go and see his father and now she was waiting for him to come back from the Mess with food to see them through the journey. She had dressed in her finest dress, the blue one Marcus liked so much, for she wanted to look as lady-like as she could, despite her current circumstances. She could hardly breathe in the dress it was so tight. She would have to find a way to make some new dresses that were more suitable for where she was now living. She had found out on the first morning that she was hopeless at braiding her own hair. Raven did it for her when she came to visit; showing Abby every time how to weave the strands but no matter how hard she tried she had so far failed to master it. Raven was not around so early in the morning to braid it today so Abby had pulled it into a simple ponytail and it would have to do.

The door opened and Marcus walked in, his brow furrowed, his lips pursed in a thin line. He was nervous about seeing his family again after so long, worried that they would reject his request, or worse, refuse to see him at all. He had voiced these concerns to Abby last night when they were lying in bed trying not to touch each other. She had not been able to reassure him because she didn't know what Lord Kane's reaction would be to Marcus turning up after all these years, with another man's wife in tow and a tale that she would not believe if she didn't know the truth of it.

"Are ye ready?" Kane asked.

"I am," replied Abby, taking her cloak from its hook and wrapping it round her.

"I've loaded the horses with the supplies. If we leave now we should be there by early afternoon."

"Let us be on our way, then."

They rode hard for a while, Kane setting the pace on his nag. Even though they were galloping, Abby had to rein Juno in; the thoroughbred wanted to fly across the hills but if she let her have her head, they would leave Kane and his Galloway nag far behind. They stopped to water the horses at a spectacular waterfall that Kane said was called Grey Mare's Tail because it was tall, thin and frothy. It did look like a horse's tail, Abby had to admit. She had never seen a waterfall that dropped from so great a height. It was breathtaking. They ate oatcakes and cheese sitting beside the waterfall.

"Do you know what you are going to say to your father?"

Kane shrugged. "The truth. That is all I can do."

"What about Alice, though? How will she feel about the truth coming out after all this time?"

"I don't know, but I kept the secret to protect my family from Alasdair, and that threat is gone now. I want us to be happy, Abby. I have been quiet long enough."

Abby leaned in to him, put her hand on his thigh. "We are happy, Marcus, no matter what."

He kissed her. "I know we are, my love, but…" He sighed. "It is not just about us having a good life again. I want to restore my name, at least within my family."

"Of course you do. I want that for you as well."

He smiled. "I don't know what I have done to deserve thee." He was quiet for a moment, plucking at the grass. She sensed he was working himself up to saying something, though she didn't know what, so she stayed quiet, watching the water as it fell endlessly down the ravine.

"Would ye marry me, Abby, if we could?" He looked up at her, his brow furrowed, his eyes hopeful. Abby was so surprised at the question she didn't know what to say at first. Kane looked down at the ground. "Ye don't have tae answer, I shouldn't have asked, I'm sorry."

"No, no." Abby took his hands in hers. "I was surprised, that is all. Yes. I would marry you. In a heartbeat."

Kane grinned, brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. "Perhaps we should do it now."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's get married now, here in front of this waterfall." He got to his feet, bringing Abby with him.

"We can't!"

"We can. We don't need a priest or the law. Marriage is a pledge between two people to love each other."

He took her hands, led her to the edge of the ravine so that they were directly in front of the waterfall. Abby's heart was beating fast, her stomach churning.

"Abby. I pledge that I will always love thee, be with thee through the rough and the smooth, be yer strength and yer courage, yer light in the dark. I will always be there for thee, ye can lean on me when ye are weak, trust me with yer heart and yer soul."

Abby tried to hold the tears back but failed. His words cut into her so deeply she could hardly bear it, but it was a sweet pain. She had never thought she would be so loved and it was overwhelming, especially after everything she had been through. He was expecting her to say something in return. She took deep breaths to calm herself, give her time to think of a reply. She thought she would struggle to find the words, because she hadn't said anything like that to another person ever in her life, but in the end the words came out easily, because they were the truth.

"Marcus. I pledge that I will always love you, be your strength and your courage, your hope in the darkness, your truth when you are doubting, your refuge from the storms. I am your safe harbour, your home and your heart."

Marcus had tears in his eyes as well, and Abby brushed them away.

"We should seal our union with a kiss. That is the proper thing to do," he said before taking her in his arms and kissing her.

She pressed herself against him, wanting to be as close to him as she could, melt into him, as though they were one person, never to be divided.

But they could not stay like that forever, and they broke apart, stood looking at each other.

"I love thee, Abby," said Marcus. It was the first time he had said those words to her and Abby's heart swelled so much she thought it would burst from her chest.

"And I love you."

"Will ye be Abigail Kane now? I know it is not legal, but…"

She stopped him with another kiss. "It doesn't matter if it is legal. I am proud to be Abigail Kane."

Marcus sighed. "I never thought I would be this happy."

"Well, it is true, so you had better get used to it." Abby put her arm around him and they watched the waterfall for a while, until it was time to go, for they still had miles to travel, and dark fell early at this time of year.

They made good time the rest of the journey and soon they were standing before the drawbridge, Weatherton Castle looming large above them. Abby reached across to take Kane's hand, squeezing it for reassurance.

"Are you ready for this?"

"No," he replied. "But it must be done."

He dismounted and Abby did the same, following him across the drawbridge to the guard hut. The same guard was on duty as when she had visited with Blake. His eyes grew wide when he recognised Kane.

"Lord Kane!"

"Morrison. It has been a long time."

"Aye, Sir."

"Is my father home?"

"He has gone into town with yer brother. We are expecting him back soon, though."

"Did Lady Alice go with them?"

"No, she is here. Do ye want to see her?"

"Yes. Will ye tell her I am here?"

"I will, My Lord. Take yer horses to the stable and I will send a messenger to her."

The portcullis opened and they went through to the stable. Kane took Abby's hand in his as they waited for the castle door to open. It was a few moments before a guard came out to escort them into the Great Hall. Abby felt so nervous her hand was sweating where Kane was gripping it but he didn't seem to notice, or else he was the same. She felt sick at the thought of him seeing the portraits, the gap where his should be. How would he feel seeing the evidence of how thoroughly he had been cast out?

She need not have worried for he didn't glance in that direction; his eyes were fixed firmly on the nook at the end of the Hall, where Alice was standing. They walked towards her, and stood awkwardly for a moment, before Alice held her arms out to Kane and he moved in to hug her.

"It is wonderful to see you, Marcus. I was so worried about you."

"It is so good to see you. Ye have met my wife, Abigail?" He turned and pulled Abby forward to present her.

"Your wife?" Alice frowned. "Yes, we have met. It is nice to see you again, Abigail."

"I am sorry I did not have time to write to you about the trial."

"That does not matter now. I didn't know you and Marcus were married. Your husband…"

"There are some legal formalities to overcome," said Kane.

"Oh. Well, welcome to the family, Abigail. Why don't we sit."

"Thank you."

They sat on the pristine sofa, Kane and Abby on one side of the table, Alice on the other.

"So you escaped, obviously. Tell me what has happened."

Kane told Alice the story of his escape and their subsequent meeting with Alasdair. She listened intently, fiddling with the bow on her dress as she did. Abby thought she was nervous; perhaps she suspected why they were here, what Marcus wanted to do, and she didn't like it.

"That is quite a tale," she said when Kane had finished. "What has happened to him since? Has the Sheriff arrested him?"

Kane shook his head. "We have not heard about him since then. We have been busy making our home, settling in."

"But you will make sure he is punished? That was the condition I gave you, Abigail."

Kane spoke before Abby could answer. "It is more important to me that Abigail is free of him and safe. We have not discussed what we mean to do about him, but we will when Abigail is ready."

"I beg you to bring him to justice. He cannot get away with his crimes."

"We will consider all the options, Alice. I promise you." Abby gave Alice a wan smile but she did not smile back. She was angry, and Abby didn't blame her, but she was not the one who had been so recently at Alasdair's mercy, as she and Marcus had. It was not her decision to make.

"I suspect you did not ride all this way to update me on these events. What are you here for, Marcus?"

Kane took a deep breath, took hold of Abby's hand again. "I wish to tell my father the truth, to see if he will take me back."

Alice was quiet, her face so pale it was almost white. "Oh."

"I know this is a shock to thee, but Alasdair is no longer a threat. There is no need for me to hide any longer."

"And you mean to live here, with your wife, be Lord Kane again. I see."

"I don't give a damn about the title. I want Abigail to live a life that she is accustomed to, and I want my father to know that I am not the son he thinks I am."

"I do understand that, but what will James think? I have lied to him all these years, let you take the blame for something you didn't do. It does not make me look good, Marcus. I will be blamed for your disgrace."

Tears were shining in her eyes. Abby's heart went out to her, because none of this was her fault any more than it was Marcus's. They had made a decision long ago in the spur of the moment and this was the consequence. Marcus should not have to live with it the rest of his life, though; she must see that.

"Ye are not to blame. I made the decision and I have lived with it, and I have never regretted it, not for an instant. I will make father and James understand that. We were protecting them, Alice."

"I know." She bowed her head, wiping her tears away, not looking at Kane or Abby while she gathered herself. Abby and Kane looked at each other. Abby gave him a small reassuring nod.

Just then the door opened. Kane jumped up and dragged Abby with him. She watched as an old man with grey hair and pale blue eyes strode down the hall, followed by a younger man with blonde hair and the same eyes. Kane's father, and his brother, James. They were unmistakeable from their portraits. They both saw Kane at the same time, stopping a few feet away and staring, trying to take in the unexpected sight. James looked beyond Kane to Alice, saw she was crying, and rushed forward towards Kane, a murderous look on his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Abby stepped in front of Kane to shield him. Alice stood up as well.

"James, it is alright. It is not what you think."

"How can it be other than what I think? Why have you let this monster in here?"

"I come in peace," said Kane, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I do not mean any harm."

"You have done enough harm, don't you think. Get out of my house." James was red in the face with anger.

"If ye would allow me to speak…" Kane moved past Abby towards his brother but Alice intervened before he could get close.

"James. Marcus has something to tell you both, and I think you should hear him out. Please."

Lord Robert Kane had been silent so far but now he stepped forward.

"You are not welcome here." He turned to look to the back of the Hall. "Guards!"

Two guards ran down the Hall towards Kane, pushing Abby and Alice out of the way so they could grab him.

"No!" cried Abby as they dragged Kane away. He was resisting, dragging his feet, trying to shrug them off, but they held him tight.

"It was not Marcus who raped me," shouted Alice.

The room went quiet, the guards stopped dragging Kane away and he stopped resisting. Everyone was looking at Alice.

"What do you mean, it was not him?" said James.

"It was another man, a horrible, dangerous man. Marcus confessed to protect me, to protect our family." She was crying again, and Abby cried too. What a terrible, terrible thing Alasdair had done to this family.

"I don't understand." James was shaking his head, looking from Alice to Kane and back again.

"Alice is telling the truth," said Kane. "I found her after it had happened, not long before ye both came in."

Lord Robert nodded at the guards and they let Kane go. Kane returned to Abby.

"You had better tell us the true story, then. And who is this?" He nodded at Abby.

"This is my wife, Abigail. Abigail, this is my father, Lord Robert Kane."

Abby curtsied. "I am honoured to meet you, Sir."

Lord Robert looked her up and down, and nodded. "My Lady."

James sat next to Alice on the sofa and Lord Robert eased himself into a chair at the far end of the nook. Kane and Abby resumed their previous positions.

Lord Robert waved his hand at Kane, presumably as a request for him to start telling the story, so he told the tale again, sticking to the parts that involved the Kane family, leaving Abby's relationship with Alasdair unspoken.

"This is a sorry tale all round," said Lord Robert when Kane finished the story and sat back. "Such dishonesty from all of you, including you, James. Doing underhand deals with a man like that. I'm ashamed of you."

James hung his head, mumbled an apology.

"Why didn't you tell the truth from the start? I could have dealt with a man like Griffin."

"Forgive me, Sir, but ye do not know him. Lord Griffin threatened Alice's life, and from what I have learned of him since, he would have made good on that threat."

"I begged Marcus, father," said Alice. "It is my fault."

"It is not yer fault, Alice," replied Kane. "It is Lord Griffin's fault."

"Stop talking like that!"

"Like what?" Kane looked confused. Abby knew to what Lord Robert was referring. Kane had become so used to talking like the rest of his clan he didn't realise he was doing it, didn't know how much it stood out when they were in company such as this. Abby found it endearing, but clearly it was upsetting Lord Robert.

"In that ridiculous accent. You are not a peasant. Why do you speak like one?"

"I am sorry, father. It is how I have been living."

"I know how you have been living, with thieves and murderers. I've heard the tales. The Grey Wolf." He shook his head in disgust. "You are no son of mine."

Abby blanched at Lord Robert's words. This was going much worse than she had anticipated. She squeezed Kane's hand but he did not respond. He was staring at his father, trying to control his anger.

"I did not choose the life. I had nothing when ye threw me out, I was barely surviving and they rescued me."

"You cannot blame me for your lifestyle. You gave me no choice but to banish you. I acted on good faith. Everything that has happened to you is because of your choices, not mine."

"I know that, Sir. I have never blamed thee or anyone. I am merely explaining how I come to be in my current circumstances."

Abby couldn't understand Lord Robert's position. How could he not see the great sacrifice Marcus had made? He had nearly given up his life for this family and they were too blind or stubborn to see the man he was, who he had always been deep down. How long must he continue paying for being a young man who lost his mother and wanted to live the only life he had to the fullest? She wanted to intervene on Marcus's behalf, but wasn't sure if he would appreciate that. She decided to wait and see how the conversation developed.

"You did have a choice, son, and you chose to live like the very people who murdered your mother. I cannot forgive that, no matter what started you down that path."

Abby couldn't stay quiet any longer. "Sir, Marcus is not like the others. He is a man of peace."

"Does he rob people of their money and possessions?"

"Only to support those less fortunate."

"Do the people in his so-called clan rape and murder or is that just a myth?"

Abby was flummoxed by the directness of Lord Robert's questioning. "No, well, yes, they did, but that will stop now Marcus is in charge."

"Abby." Kane put his hand on Abby's arm, gave her a look that said thanks, but it is enough. "Sir, I can see that my coming here was a waste of time. Ye are not going to forgive me for choices I made to protect this family. That is yer right. For my part, leaving here and joining the clan was the making of me. Have I done things I am not proud of? Many, both before and after I left here. Ye cannot see it, but I am the man ye always wanted me to be. I am a good husband to my beautiful wife, and we are making a home and a life together. I am Heid of my clan, and we have done terrible things in the past, yes, but I am making a new future where we are a force for good. I wanted to come home, to make you proud of me, to live a good life, but I see now that I already live a good life, an honest life. I think it is time I got back to it. Let us leave, Abigail."

He stood and Abby stood with him. They walked the length of the Hall, leaving a stunned silence behind them. As they were fetching the horses from the stable, Alice came up to them.

"I am sorry, Marcus. Your coming here was a shock, that is all. Give him time. I will speak to him."

"I appreciate yer words, and yer kindness, Alice, but it does not matter to me what he thinks. I already have everything I need in life. I do not need his approval, I should have realised that."

"Nevertheless, I will speak with him. It would be nice for you to be able to visit at least, don't you think?"

Kane shrugged. "Nothing has changed. Ye are still the only one of them I can stand to be with." He hugged her, kissed her cheek.

"Well, I can more than tolerate you now. I see the truth of your words in there, and Lord Robert will come to see it too in time."

Kane nodded and mounted his horse. Abby gave Alice a hug as well. "Perhaps we can meet if you are ever in Peebles."

"I would like that. I will write to you."

Abby looked back as Alice waved them off. She rode side by side with Marcus as they left the castle and began the ascent of the hill.

"I am proud of you," she said, looking across to him.

He didn't answer, just gave a nod without looking at her. Silent tears were rolling down his cheeks and Abby wanted to stop their horses so she could embrace him, hug all his pain away. She suspected he wanted to be alone in his grief, as she had wanted this past sevenday, so she rode alongside him quietly, wondering how two hearts could be so broken and so swollen with love at the same time. Darkness fell as they reached the top of the hill but they kept going, letting the moon and the stars guide them home.


	18. A New Life

**The Hundred Camp – Broad Law**

When Abby woke the day after their trip to Weatherton, it was still dark in the dwelling, even though she was certain she could not have slept through the day and into the night again. She got out of bed, and pulled her cloak on; it was so cold her breath was misting in the air. She went to the door and tried to open it but it would not budge. She tugged harder, finally managing to loosen it enough to pull it open. Shards of ice fell into the room, and she looked out onto a world that was only two colours, grey and white, if you could call those colours at all. Snow was falling heavily, and was already a couple of feet deep on the ground. She shut the door again, heaving her body against it to get it to latch. She got back into bed, discarding her cloak on the chair, and burrowed back down under the furs, where it was still warm.

"Yer feet are freezing!" mumbled Kane as she brushed up against him.

"Are they?" Abby pressed her feet hard against his leg and he yelped.

"Ye are wicked, Abby."

She laughed. "You had better warm me up."

He captured her feet between his calves so he could transfer his body heat to her. "Is this what ye mean?"

"No, but it will do for now."

"What is happening out there?"

"There is snow. Lots of snow."

"Hmmm." Kane snuggled up to her, draping an arm over her waist. "Then we had better stay right here where it is warm."

His cock was pressing against her belly, and Abby ran her fingers over it, causing him to draw in his breath. "Are you recovered enough yet, do you think?"

"Ye are doing a good job of persuading me. How about thee?"

"If you are gentle with me."

"I will be."

He lifted her leg so it rested on his hip, and angled himself so he could slide into her. They kissed as they moved their bodies together with a fluid grace born of familiarity. They still had so much to learn about each other, and Abby's pulse quickened at the memory of some of the things they had done together during the last sevenday, but this was what she liked the most. Their early-morning slow dance, where the only purpose was to be as one. They never spoke during these moments, just gave themselves over to the slow build-up of pleasure. Abby was more carefree with the sounds she made now, whereas Kane had never held back, and she loved hearing their breaths quicken in unison, their moans growing louder as they reached their climax. It was the music they made to accompany their dance, and she didn't think she would ever tire of listening to it.

Afterwards, they lay on their backs, listening to the sound of silence. The snow deadened everything, giving a weight to the quiet. It seemed to Abby like there was no one else in the world except for them. She almost wished it was so.

"We need to talk, Abby," said Kane, and Abby closed her eyes. Sadly, they were not alone, and the other people inhabiting their world were pushing in on them all the time, the sharp memories of their deeds pricking her bubble. She did not want to talk, but she knew if she didn't, the feelings would overwhelm her sooner or later, and perhaps Marcus felt the same, after yesterday. She took a deep breath, and turned on her side to look at him.

"Where do you want to start?"

"How about with our future?"

"That is a big subject."

Kane turned so that he was looking at her as well. "Aye. Well, I thought it was set, until yesterday. That road is closed to us now."

"You were upset, about what your father said?"

"I didn't realise the strength of his anger, how much my choices have hurt him."

"He will come around. How could he not see what a wonderful man his son has turned out to be?"

"He does not look at me with your eyes, Abby."

"He looks at you with a father's eyes, and he still sees the son who disappointed him, even before everything that happened. He does not know the man you are now. You must open his eyes, Marcus."

"The question is…" He took a deep breath. "Do I want to?"

"Be honest with me, now. Did you ever want to go back to that life?"

"I wanted it for thee."

"Forget about me for a moment. What do _you_ want for yourself?"

"I want to lead this clan. I have a chance to start over, make something better." Marcus looked at her as he said this, and she could see the truth of it, the passion that brought a spark to his eyes, a smile to his lips.

"Then you should do it."

He stroked her cheek. "But what about thee, Abby? Ye cannot want to live like this, surely?"

"Live like what? Desperately in love with a wonderful man? Able to make my own decisions, run my own house as I see fit, go wherever I want, when I want? These are not small things to me, Marcus."

"I know they are not, my love."

"Yes. I think perhaps you do know, because you know what it is like to be helpless, to have no control over your fate."

Kane kissed her. "Ye have control now."

Abby smiled. "Well, I'm pleased that you say that, because I have an idea. There is something I want to discuss with you."

"Now is the time. I am a captive audience." He gave her that cheeky lop-sided smile that had melted her heart the first time she met him.

"I was thinking. There is not enough to occupy me all day in the house. It is small and there is only so much sweeping I can do, even though you do stomp through with your muddy boots without a care that I have just cleaned up."

Kane looked sheepish. "Sorry. I am not yet used to having anyone care about what I do or how the house looks."

Abby squeezed his hand. "I know you are not. I am only teasing you."

"Do ye have something in mind that ye'd like to do?"

"Yes." She took a deep breath. "How would you feel if I helped the medic sometimes? I could be his assistant, make the potions for him. Do you think he would mind that?"

Kane laughed, and Abby's heart seemed to stop for a moment. Was it such a ridiculous idea? She had thought Marcus would be supportive, not laugh at her.

"Is it a terrible idea? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"No, no." Kane pulled her into a hug, and then released her. He was smiling. "I am sorry to laugh. It is just that I had such an idea myself. In fact, I have a proposal for thee. I wasn't sure ye would want to do it, but now I think it would be perfect."

Abby felt excitement ripple through her skin, bringing goosebumps to her flesh. "What is it?"

"I was thinking we could extend the medic station, so that it is not just for the clan, but for anyone who needs help."

"Like a field hospital?"

"Exactly. We would need two medics to run that. Ye could be one and Jackson the other."

"I love the idea, Marcus, but what about the camp's security? Our location would be known to everyone."

"I have thought about that. I hate to bring this up, but with Alasdair being Laird of the Borders as he told me, I am sure we cannot escape his notice fer long, but I don't think it matters. We can either use the papers to get rid of Alasdair and all his corrupt friends, and get a pardon from the King as reward, or we can leave things as they are. He controls the law, but we have the papers and he knows it. I doubt he will bother us, for fear of what we will do."

"I see." Abby hadn't considered that Alasdair would be able to find them, or maybe she just hadn't wanted to think about it. Of course he would know where they were. It was big country out here, but a camp this size couldn't stay hidden for long, and he had an added incentive for making sure he knew where she was, even if he couldn't do anything about it.

"Ye haven't said what ye want to do about him yet." Kane's look was full of concern, and worry. He stroked her hair. "Ye don't have to make any decisions, but I wish ye would talk to me."

"It is hard. I don't want to talk about my feelings for Jacob with you. It doesn't feel fair to you."

"Abby, Jacob's a part of who ye are, and ye are grieving again, I know it. It is alright to miss him, to wonder what might have been."

"The truth is that I feel like HE has robbed me of the life I should have led with Jacob, and yet I know in my heart that this life with you is everything I could want. I am so happy with you that a part of me is glad everything happened the way it did otherwise I wouldn't be with you, and I hate myself for that."

Kane pulled her into his arms and rocked her. It was a relief to give voice to the feelings that had been plaguing her thoughts every moment she was alone, but she was worried what Marcus would say, how he would react. He probably had no idea that such darkness was in her heart, that she was capable of thinking something so terrible, or feeling it. She was surprised at herself.

"Only someone with a heart as big as yours would hate themselves fer that. It is alright to be glad that we found each other, Abby, after all we have been through."

She pulled back from him so she could look him in the eye. It seemed important to do that somehow, when she was admitting her deepest feelings. "But to be glad that he died, that is not right."

"Abby, we all have dark thoughts. I have them, and I have acted on them sometimes, not that I'm proud of that. I feel the same as ye do, and it makes me feel guilty. Other people have had to hurt for us to have what we have, and what we have together is special, Abby. Like nothing I have ever felt or ever thought I would feel or have. It is overwhelming at times, isn't it?"

Abby nodded, unsure if he was trying to make her feel better, or if he was telling the truth. "You feel the same?"

"Yes. I am happy that our paths have led us to here and now, and if all of these things had to happen for us to be together, then yes, I am glad, I cannot lie. It doesn't mean I _wanted_ them to happen, but they have. We cannot know what might have been. There are many twists and turns our lives could take, and all we can know is where we are now. Keep a place in yer heart for Jacob, grieve for him. But ye are here now, with me, and it is alright to be so happy ye could burst. For who could blame thee."

He smiled, and Abby smiled back, because she couldn't help it. She had thought he would be disgusted, or try to rationalise her feelings away, but instead he had just accepted it as normal, even admitted to feeling the same, and that was a shock to her. Was it really normal to think such things? Did everyone have dark places in their hearts and minds? She supposed they must; she was not unique. She wasn't sure she was as ready to accept her feelings as he was, but it did feel good to admit them, and not be judged.

He got a serious look on his face as he pulled her in so that his lips were next to her ear, his breath tickling her as he spoke.

"I want ye to know, that ye will never have a thought so dark that ye cannot share it with me."

She nodded, sobbing a little from relief, and guilt, and a hundred other emotions that were washing over her.

They lay like that for a while, and Abby drifted off to sleep again, until she was awoken by a knock on the door. Kane got up, pulled his kilt and shirt on and headed for the door.

"The door is stiff," said Abby. "There is ice."

He nodded, and tugged on it to open it as she had done. It opened easily for him.

"I loosened it!" shouted Abby, and he turned and smiled at her before speaking to whoever was outside. He returned a moment later clutching a pair of fur-covered boots.

"That was Raven. We had better get up. There is a surprise waiting for ye outside. We may as well go and see Jackson as well, let him know our plans. He's been itching to meet thee since ye arrived. Oh, and these are for thee, from Raven." He handed her the boots.

"A surprise? What is it?"

"Get dressed and find out."

"I don't know if I'm ready to meet people, Marcus," Abby said as she pulled on her dress and the boots, which were snug and warm. Bless Raven, she thought of everything.

"Ye've been holed up in here with nothing but me for company for over a sevenday, not that I'm complaining. I love having ye all to myself, but ye need to get out, Abby. Jackson won't bite. He's quiet and thoughtful, ye'll like him."

Abby knew he was right but it felt like a big step, meeting other people in the clan. She had no idea how they would take to her being here. There was only one way to find out, she supposed. She followed Kane out of the door, placing her feet in the dents he made in the snow because it was easier than trying to wade through herself. His strides were long, though, and she had to lift her skirts and stretch to keep up with him. They walked the length of the courtyard in this manner, finally reaching the Mess. Kane opened the door and when she moved in from behind him, she could see the surprise. It was Harper! Blake was with her, and Abby's heart leapt to see them both.

"Harper! What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Mistress!" Harper crossed the room and flung herself in Abby's arms.

Abby hugged Harper to her. "Is everything alright?" Blake had sent a message to Marcus reassuring him that Harper was fine and working in the kitchen, so Abby had not worried. Now she was fearful that something had happened.

"I missed thee."

"I have missed you, too."

Harper stepped back from the hug. "I cannae go on working there, Mistress. The Master is in such a terrible mood all the time. It's horrible."

"He hasn't hurt you, has he?"

"No. I am fine. I just dinnae want to be there anymore. I want tae be with thee. Can I stay here?"

Abby looked at Marcus. He nodded.

"Yes, of course you can stay here."

"Ye can sleep in my office until we sort something out for ye," said Kane.

"Thank ye, Mistress." Harper hugged Abby again.

Abby stroked Harper's hair. "You're welcome, and you can call me Abby. I am not your mistress here."

"Will I still be able to look after thee?"

Abby laughed. "You can do whatever you want to do." She released Harper from her arms. She was so happy that Harper was here, but couldn't help being disappointed that she and Blake seemed to have come alone. She turned to Blake.

"Is Clarke not with you?"

Blake shifted uncomfortably. "No, Mistress. She has returned to her Aunt's house."

"Back to Aunt Mary? Alasdair's sister? Why? You told her about Jacob?" Abby couldn't understand why Clarke would want to have anything to do with the Griffin family after what Alasdair had done.

"Aye, Mistress. She was very upset, confronted the Master, ye know how she is. He admitted it to her, and she left immediately."

"Why didn't she come here?"

Blake coughed. "She's still angry with thee, fer, ye know, everything with Kane, and me. She's angry with me as well because she knows now that I knew all about it."

Kane put his hand on Abby's arm. "She'll come around. She needs time."

Abby nodded, but his words did not make her feel better. She was losing her daughter, and there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn't go to see Clarke at her Aunt's house, and Clarke wouldn't come to see Abby at the camp. She would have to be patient, keep sending her messages through Blake, and see what happened.

Kane addressed Harper and Blake. "Why don't ye both sit down and get something tae eat. Ye must be hungry after yer journey. Abby and I have some business next door with Jackson."

He placed his hand on her back and ushered her through an adjoining door before she could protest. They were in a small room with rows of makeshift beds that were little more than canvas stretched over wooden frames. There was a long table at the back of the room with shelves lined with potions. Herbs hung from the ceiling, mostly dried, some fresh. They gave the room a pleasant scent. There were no patients, but standing with his back to them, sprinkling a dried powder into some water was a tall, slim, dark-haired man.

"Good morning, Jackson," said Kane, and Jackson turned to look at them. He had the brownest eyes Abby had ever seen, half-lidded, making him seem laconic, like he was a mixture of amused and bored. He smiled at her, though, and his smile lit up his whole face.

"Kane! And this must be Abby." He stepped forward to greet her, holding out his hand for her to shake. "I've been so looking forward to meeting thee."

"Likewise," said Abby.

"Ye did a wonderful job on Kane's arm. I was very impressed."

"Thank you."

"He's not a good patient, so ye did well tae get him to stay still while ye dressed him."

Abby laughed. "I drugged him with the St John's Wort. He couldn't move if he wanted to."

Kane frowned. "Ye drugged me?"

Jackson patted his arm. "Medics' humour. Dinnae worry about it." He turned to Abby. "What do ye use to set yer poultice normally?"

"Beeswax, if I can get it, but it's hard to find."

"Oh, I know. I've always wanted tae set up an apiary but we move around so often it's not possible."

"That's what Abby and I have come tae talk to ye about, actually, Jackson." Kane sat on the edge of one of the beds and motioned for Jackson and Abby to do the same.

"I want tae make this camp permanent," he continued. "Make more of what we can offer."

"How are ye going tae do that?" asked Jackson.

"I thought we could extend the medic station, make a proper field hospital with more beds and the best equipment we can make."

"That's a big job, Kane, a lot of work."

"I know, but there'll be two of ye doing it." He nodded to Abby. "Abby knows everything there is tae know about making potions and how tae use them."

"Not everything," interrupted Abby, worried that Kane was making her seem more knowledgeable than she was.

"More than most people," he said.

"Probably more than me," said Jackson. "It's my weakest area."

"See," said Kane. "This is perfect. Ye can teach Abby how to stitch people up and all those other awful things ye do, and she can teach ye how to make the potions and poultices."

Jackson turned to her. Abby tensed, not sure what his reaction was going to be to her invading his territory when they'd only just met.

"What do ye think, Abby? Do ye think ye could work with me? I'm a lot less stubborn than he is. We'll have fun."

Abby was so grateful to him for his kindness and acceptance she felt like weeping, but she held it back, and smiled instead.

"I think we will work very well together. There's a lot to do, and a lot to learn."

Kane stood up. "Why don't I leave ye both to it fer a while. I'll be in my office if ye need me." He gave Abby a kiss on the lips and patted Jackson on the shoulder before leaving and shutting the door behind him.

Abby looked at Jackson. "Where shall we start?"

Back in their house, as night fell, they lay naked on the bed, Kane's fingers playing lazily over Abby's body, tracing the shape of her.

"Did ye enjoy today, meeting Jackson?"

"I did. I think it will be fun working with him."

"I am glad. He is a good man. Ye know, Abby, I've noticed something lately."

"What is that?"

"Yer belly is rounder." He ran his hands over the curve of it. "Ye've been eating less than ye used to, but yer belly is round, and yer breasts are firmer."

Abby reached down to touch her stomach. "I suppose it is swollen. My dresses have been tight as well. I think it's because I'm not used to eating so little. I've seen it in the sheep sometimes, when the grazing is poor."

"Ye're not eating that much less. Have ye had yer monthly blood?"

"Not recently, but that's not unusual. It has been uncertain for a year or so. I think I am coming to the end of it; my grandmother said it would happen one day."

Kane frowned. "Can ye remember the last time?"

Abby shrugged. "Three or four months maybe, I am not sure."

"Oh, Abby."

"What?" She stroked her belly, feeling its roundness, its changing shape. "No! It cannot be."

"I think it is." Kane smiled. "Ye are with child." He kissed her, her belly hard beneath his lips.

"It's not possible, Marcus."

"Why not? We haven't been careful."

"You know why. It has not happened these last fifteen years."

"And what has changed since then?"

Abby bit her bottom lip, contemplating the possibility. "You."

"Aye. Me." He didn't want to ask the next question; it made him feel sick even though he had not the right to feel that way. She was legally someone else's after all. "When was the last time ye lay with him?"

"The night of the raid. He wanted to reclaim me."

Kane shuddered. "I am sorry about that."

"Don't be. I wouldn't change it for anything."

She pressed her lips to his, and they lay like that for a while, kissing each other.

"It is not his," Kane said.

"We can't know that."

"We can, Abby. It was never thee that couldn't have the child, it was him. Fifteen years with him and nothing. A few months with me and ye are already swollen. It is mine."

Abby probed her belly with her fingers, as though the truth would be revealed beneath her hands. She smiled at him. "Maybe it was that first time, under the willow tree. Are you happy about it?"

Kane had never thought about being a father, only how to avoid that event. He couldn't deny that with Abby, even before he knew, or thought he knew, that she couldn't have children, he had been careless, leaving their fate to the gods. What did that say about his needs? She was anxious for his response, he could see the concern in her face. It was strange to realise that something he had never thought about or needed, was now something that he wanted.

"Aye." He planted delicate kisses all over her belly. "Although I wish we were somewhere better. This is no place for a bairn, Abby."

"We will make it work. Oh!" She cried out as he kissed his way down from her belly to her sex, opening her legs to allow him access. He thought she might taste differently, because everything seemed different now that he knew, but she was the same, and he brought her to a climax that had her arching her back off the bed with pleasure.

Kane moved to enter her, then hesitated. It felt strange to do it knowing there was a bairn inside her, one that was big enough to cause a bump.

"What's the matter?"

"Will I hurt the bairn?"

Abby reached up and stroked his face, brought his lips to hers and kissed him.

"No," she said. "You won't."

He slid into her, carefully, just in case, and they made love like that, slowly, taking their time, letting the feelings build.

Afterwards he lay with his head on Abby's chest, caressing her belly. "I wonder how big it is?"

"I am not sure. Like an apple perhaps."

"An apple? And already it is making thee bigger."

Abby laughed. "I'm going to get a lot bigger than this, Marcus. You'll have to get used to that."

"I think I can do that. Ye'll be beautiful, I know ye will. Ye'll need help, though. It's good that Harper is here."

She kissed his lips. "With Harper, and Raven, and Jackson and you, I will be well looked after."

Kane stroked her stomach again. "A baby," he said. He was amazed at the thought of it, overwhelmed. Four months ago, he was trudging through his life with no real expectations of anything other than surviving each day. Now he was a husband, and soon to be a father.

"Our baby," replied Abby.

Kane sighed as he moved to rest his head on her belly. "I love thee, Abby."

She stroked his hair, fingers running through his curls making his scalp tingle.

"And I love you, so much."

 **SEVEN MONTHS LATER**

 **The Hundred Camp, Broad Law**

Kane woke to the sound of the bairn crying, which was how he woke every day now, when he managed any sleep at all. Thomas was still lying in the cruck of his arm where he had been when they had both drifted away, but he was wriggling now. Kane looked for Abby. She was sitting in the chair next to the bed, dressed in a thin white slip, paint brush in hand. She smiled when she saw him looking at her.

"You're both awake."

"Aye, and one of us is hungry."

She put the paper she was working on down on the covers and got into bed next to Kane. He handed her the child who was now screaming loud enough to wake the whole camp, and she untied the bodice of her slip to allow the baby to feed.

Kane watched as Thomas suckled at Abby's breast, guzzling and slurping, making contented little sighs as he drank.

"Ye're a noisy wee man, Thomas Robert."

Abby laughed, stroking the child's mop of dark hair.

"He enjoys himself."

"Aye, he's his father's son alright."

Abby smiled at him and Kane felt that surge of love and happiness he'd been getting every day since Thomas was born. He couldn't stop looking at him, watching everything he did, listening to every noise he made. He cried when he was hungry, which seemed to Kane to be all the time, and when he did sleep he frowned, as though he had all the cares of the world on his mind at six weeks old. Kane already knew every part of him, from the soft, black hairs on his head to the tiny patches of dry skin on his cheeks to his perfect wee fingernails and the small brown mark on his belly, shaped like a wild strawberry. His eyelashes were his favourite part of him, long and thick like Abby's. In fact, his eyes were all Abby, as big as the peat moor and just as dark. When he looked at Kane with those eyes, those lashes, Kane knew he would do anything for him, anything at all. Abby said he couldn't see faces properly yet but he knew Kane's voice, turned his head towards him when he came home and greeted his family.

Kane had always been an early riser, but now that he spent his mornings like this, in bed with Abby, watching her feed their son, he found it harder and harder to leave them.

He picked up the paper while Abby fed the boy, and looked at what she was working on. He thought it would be another flower drawing for the medical book she was making, but it was a painting of him and Thomas sleeping, as they must have looked just a few moments before.

"This is beautiful, Abby. Ye are getting so good at these."

Abby shrugged, as she did whenever she received a compliment, as though it was impossible that what he was saying were true.

"The new pigments I made with Raven are better to work with. I am still not good with people; I prefer drawing the plants."

"I think ye have captured yer two handsome men very well."

She shook her head, smiling as she wiped up the milk that had spilled from Thomas's mouth.

"I think he needs his father," said Abby, handing the bairn to him. "He's grumpy and needs burping. That's your speciality."

"What is? The grumpiness or the burping?"

"Both I would say."

Kane laid his son against his bare chest, enjoying the skin to skin contact as he always did. He rubbed Thomas's back gently, feeling his heart beating fast beneath his hand.

"Ye know me so well."

"I do." Abby leaned across and kissed him, then kissed the back of Thomas's head. "I think he's fallen asleep."

Kane looked down. "Aye, he's snoring." They both laughed.

"Shall I put him in his basket?"

"Nay. Leave him be for a while. I have tae go soon and I won't be back until tomorrow probably. I'll miss ye both."

"We'll miss you." Abby moved down the bed so that she could curl up with her head resting on Kane's thigh. He stroked her hair with his free hand.

"Will ye be alright?"

"Yes. Raven is coming to help. She claims babies are of no interest to her but Thomas has her wrapped round his finger."

"He's a lady's man," said Kane with a smile.

"He'd better not be!"

Kane was about to reply when there was a commotion outside and the door to their dwelling burst open. The Sheriff and four guards marched in. Thomas awoke and started crying. Before Kane could react, another figure walked in behind them, one that was all too familiar.

"Well, isn't this a cosy scene," said Alasdair Griffin.

Abby had sat up startled when the men first entered the room, now she pulled the fur up to cover her bare breasts.

Kane handed Thomas to her, and she tried to quiet the baby, but he wouldn't settle, and continued crying at the top of his lungs. "What the hell is going on?" Kane swung his legs over the side of the bed to get up and confront the intruders but the Sheriff's men pointed their guns at him.

"Stay where ye are, or we will shoot thee." said the Sheriff.

"There's a baby in the room," said Abby. "There's no need for guns."

"There's every need, Lady. This man here is wanted by the King and ye are the same if truth be told."

Alasdair strode forward. "No one need get hurt if you both do as you are told."

"What do you want?" Abby's words came out like a hiss, full of venom.

"I've come for what's rightfully mine. My son and heir."

Kane's blood ran cold. He looked at Abby, and she looked at him, fear making her face pale, her eyes wide. She hugged Thomas tighter to her, making him cry harder.

"He's no son of yours," she said.

"Well that's where you're wrong." Alasdair's voice was calm and confident. "You're still my wife, and my property, and that makes him legally my son. I have signed papers from the courts to prove it." He waved a sheaf of papers in the air, then threw them on the bed.

Abby ignored them but Kane picked them up, flicked through them with a growing heaviness in his heart. The papers named the child as William Alasdair Griffin, son and rightful heir of the Griffin clan.

He looked at Abby in despair.

"No!" She cried.

Alasdair nodded. "I'm afraid so. He needs to be with his father, not his whore of a mother and her murdering lover. The courts will never give him to you two."

He nodded to the Sheriff. "Take the baby." The Sheriff moved towards the bed, Abby shrunk back against the wall, Thomas in her arms.

"No! Ye're not taking him." Kane jumped up, lunged towards the Sheriff, ignoring the men with guns who ran forward. One of them hit him on the back with the butt of his gun and Kane fell onto the bed.

"Arrest him," said Alasdair, and the men grabbed Kane's arms and legs, dragged him to the floor, shackling his ankles and wrists before pulling him, naked, to his feet.

Abby was crying, and Kane felt tears of hopelessness slide down his face. The Sheriff was trying to prise Thomas out of Abby's arms but she was resisting.

"Have some heart," cried Kane. Ye cannae separate a mother from her bairn. He needs her milk, her love."

"There are wet nurses for that. Let him go, Abigail."

"It is not the same," said Kane.

Alasdair came closer, stood in front of Kane. "Perhaps you are right." He turned to Abby. "You can come with the child, to nurse him, make sure he is healthy."

"No! That's not what I meant!"

Alasdair grinned at Kane. "I bet it wasn't. You thought I would give in to you on the strength of your plea. You're mistaking me, laddie. She may lie back and open her legs easily for you, but I won't."

He looked at Abby. "I am taking the child with me today. He belongs to me, and may well be mine. I did have you, if you remember."

"He's never yours. Look at him!"

Alasdair ignored Kane, continued talking to Abby in a low, cold voice.

"You can give him up now, and never see him again, or you can come with him and at least watch him grow up, as his nursemaid. The choice is yours."

Abby looked at Kane and his heart broke. There was only one thing she could do and they both knew it. He nodded, too choked up for words.

She laid Thomas on the bed while she pulled on her dress, slowly, trying to delay the inevitable. She looked at Kane the whole time, and he looked back, trying to will all his love into her, trying not to let her see his fear, his utter despair.

"Promise me one thing, Alasdair, and I will come quietly."

"What is it?"

"Don't kill him. Don't send him to gaol."

Alasdair looked Kane straight in the eyes as he responded.

"Oh, I don't want him dead. I want to think of him out here, alone, while another man raises his child, fucks his woman. It is only as he has done to me after all. Seems fair, don't you think?"

Kane lunged towards him, surprising his guards enough that he was able to headbutt Alasdair's nose, flattening it, making it bleed. "Ye're not fucking touching her!"

Alasdair reeled, his hands flying to his face, feeling his nose, fingers coming away covered in blood. "You bastard! For that, you're going to spend a week in solitary confinement, and by the time you get out, we'll be gone. We're away to start a new life, somewhere you'll never find us. And if by any chance you do turn up, I'll kill you myself, and make her watch."

He grabbed Abby's wrist, dragging her towards the door. The Sheriff picked up Thomas and followed behind.

Abby looked behind her as she left, tears flowing down her face.

"I love you, Marcus!"

"I will find thee, Abby. Stay strong!"

He watched as his love and their son disappeared into the courtyard, the door banging shut behind them.

"C'mon, son. Let's put some clothes on ye. We need to take ye to the gaol. Ye heard what the man said." The Sheriff's men undid the cuffs so Kane could put a shirt and his kilt on, then refastened them and escorted him out of the hut.

There was no sign of Abby or Thomas when he got outside, but he could hear carriage wheels turning in the distance, the sound of the horse's hooves on the rocky moor, and the cry of a baby, piercing the air, and his heart. Raven came running towards him.

"What the hell has happened, Kane? Where's Abby going? Where are you going? Was that her husband?"

"She's gone, Raven. He's taken her and Thomas."

"What? No! He cannae do that."

"He can, and he has."

She put her arms around Kane, pushing away the guards who tried to stop her.

"I'm sorry, Kane, we couldn't stop them. There was a whole army of soldiers. They marched in with guns and held us all in our rooms."

"It's not yer fault."

"That's enough now, lad, out of the way." The largest of the guards dragged Raven away.

Kane shouted to her as he was marched to the waggon. "Find Sinclair, Raven. Quick as ye can. He may be able to help."

"I will!"

Kane clambered into the waggon and sat back against the side as it trundled over the moor, towards Arkholm, and the road to Edinburgh where it all began. Everything about him felt heavy, his limbs, his heart, his head. So heavy, and tired. How they had gone from their happy scene to their life torn apart in so short a time he did not know, couldn't reckon it. He had no idea where Alasdair was going to take Abby and Thomas to start a new life. London perhaps, or further afield, to France. Wherever it was, as soon as he was freed he would find them, and then Alasdair Griffin would pay.


	19. The Hunt

**The Hundred Camp, Broad Law**

Kane lay propped up in his bed while Raven spoon-fed him a broth she'd made. He could still only take small amounts of food even though it had been two days since he'd been released from the gaol at Edinburgh Castle. There'd been no one to rescue him this time. He'd simply endured the long days and cold, cold nights. He had been left completely alone, with nothing to eat or drink, his gaolers perhaps hoping he would die and they could report to Alasdair that he was no longer a problem. Kane had many friends, however, even amongst guards, and one had been on duty a couple of times during the sevenday, and had brought him enough water to ensure he survived. He hadn't eaten, though. He had caught a rat, and with nothing to dissect it with he'd been faced with the prospect of tearing it apart with his teeth. He couldn't bring himself to do it. It was only a sevenday; he could survive it. He knew from past experience that the hunger pains would subside eventually. He'd let the rat go. By the end of it, he had lost all his energy, just lay unmoving in the corner of his cell until the seven days were up and Raven came to collect him. Jackson had had to carry him to the cart, and Raven had sat with him the whole journey back to Broad Law, keeping him warm, feeding him scraps of bread and sips of water.

All his waking moments he'd thought about Abby and Thomas, wondering where they were, what they were doing. Was she able to be with him all the time, or just to feed him? Who was taking care of him? And the worst question of all, the one that plagued his dreams, waking him in a cold sweat. What was Alasdair doing to Abby? She was not the same woman he'd met nearly a year ago, she was so much stronger and more confident, but there was Thomas to consider now. Kane knew Abby would put him first, do whatever it took to keep him safe, protect him from Alasdair's whims, even if that meant submitting to Alasdair's desires. Kane shivered at the thought.

"Kane?"

"Eh?" Raven's voice intruded on his thoughts, but he had no idea what she'd said, he'd been so deep into his own fears.

"Are ye alright. Do ye hurt somewhere?"

"No, I don't hurt. Why?"

"Ye cried out."

"Oh. I was thinking about Abby and Thomas."

Raven put the bowl and spoon down and sat on the bed next to him, taking his hand in hers. "They'll be alright. Abby is strong."

"Last time she saw Alasdair she wanted to kill him. If I hadn't been there she would have."

"Are ye worried she'll try again."

Kane nodded. "Aye. She'll do anything to protect Thomas. If she gets an opportunity, I'm scared she'll take it."

"Would it be such a bad thing if she did? He'd be gone, and ye'd be free."

"She wouldn't be free, Raven, she'd be arrested, and charged, and hanged. I'd lose her and Thomas forever."

Tears were forming in Kane's eyes and he swiped them away with his sleeve.

Raven leaned forward and pulled him towards her into a hug. "Ye're getting ahead of yerself, being fanciful because ye're exhausted, and weak. She's surviving like she did fer fifteen years, and she's looking after yer son, and probably looking fer ways to escape while she waits for thee to come for her."

Kane nodded, his head buried in Raven's shoulder, his tears dripping onto her.

"Build yer strength up so ye can go and get yer woman back. Ye're a wolf, not a sheep. Sinclair will be here tomorrow. Maybe he will have news."

Kane pulled away from Raven, giving her a kiss on the cheek before settling back against his pillow. "Ye're right, as always. I'd better have more of that broth, then."

Raven gave him the spoon. "I'm going to leave ye now. Feed yerself, build yer muscles up again."

Kane took the spoon and slowly ate the rest of the broth. It took him until the sun had set to finish it, but he felt better afterwards. He turned to lie on his side, facing the empty part of the bed where Abby should be. He put his hand out, caressed the pillow, then leaned across and kissed it. He could still smell her on it, the rosemary oil she put in the water when she washed her hair, the earthy scent of her skin, the faint odour of the spilled milk she'd been wiping up just before the men came and took her away from him. It was hard not to let the tears flow again, but he stopped them. Recovery was more to do with the mind than the body, and he must regain the mental strength that had seeped from him as he lay on the cold stone floor of the gaol. Sinclair would be here tomorrow, and whether he had news or not, it was time for Kane to take action, to find his family and bring them home, where they belonged.

By the time Sinclair was due to arrive in the early afternoon of the following day, Kane was feeling much better. He had eaten more broth, and walked around the courtyard until he felt dizzy from the exertion and the repetitive nature of the walk. He was sitting on a bed in the half-constructed medic station, trying to be patient as Jackson examined him, stretching his limbs out, feeling his muscles, looking in his eyes, ears and down his throat. Kane had no idea what he could diagnose from looking in his ears, but if it meant he was about to get the all clear to go and look for Abby he was happy to submit to the scrutiny.

Sinclair entered the room as Jackson finished his examination. He stood, watching, while Kane put his shirt back on and Jackson gave him a long list of warnings and instructions.

"Ye're not really up to riding a horse, Kane. Yer muscles are still weak and yer heart is racing faster than it should."

"That's because I'm desperate to get out of here."

"No, it's because yer heart is having to work harder to keep ye going because ye've had so little to eat and drink fer ten days. Further exertion is not recommended."

"I'm not taking the horse to the gallops, Jackson. I'll sit on him quietly and let him do all the work, I promise."

Jackson sighed. "I'm going to give ye some powders for ye to make into a drink every day that will help ye get stronger. Ye have to take them three times a day, Kane, starting now."

Kane held his hand out for the powders but Jackson gave them to a surprised Sinclair instead.

"I haven't forgotten what happened after the raid in Jedburgh, Kane," he said with a raise of his eyebrows.

"What happened in Jedburgh?" Sinclair pocketed the powders and looked expectantly at Kane.

"I had a minor knife wound in my leg after a fight and forgot to take the potions and it got a bit infected, that's all."

"That's all!" Jackson laughed. "He was cut to the bone, refused to take the powders I gave him, thought he knew best of course. It got infected, his leg stinking the camp out it was so bad. I thought I would have to cut it off!"

"He's exaggerating," said Kane as he hopped off the bed.

Jackson rolled his eyes in a 'what can ye do?' gesture. "Make sure ye give him the potions, Sinclair, and don't let him ride too hard."

"I'll keep him in line, Jackson."

Jackson nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Ye can go."

"Thank ye, Jackson."

Jackson grabbed Kane's arm as he went to leave. "Bring her back to us."

Kane patted his hand. "I will."

He went through to the Mess with Sinclair and they sat at one of the tables. Sinclair had visited them a lot over the previous six months, feeding them information about Alasdair's movements and plans, and he and Kane had become firm friends. Sinclair had been taken by surprise by Alasdair's kidnapping of Abby and Thomas, though, but Kane didn't blame him. Alasdair was a devious man. He'd told no one except the Sheriff, who was in his pocket. The first Sinclair had heard of it was when Raven had arrived at Arkholm the same day and told him what had happened. He had since found himself in control of the Griffin clan's Scottish estates thanks to a note from Alasdair, and he had spent some considerable time trying to find out where Alasdair had taken Abby and Thomas.

"What have ye found out, Sinclair?"

"I think I've narrowed it to two possibilities. The first is Bamburgh Castle, on the coast in Northumberland. There's been some unusual activity there over the last sevenday and reports of a woman and a baby staying there."

Kane shook his head. "Bamburgh Castle? That's just over the border, it's barely a day's ride from here. I cannae see him taking them somewhere so close. Why would he?"

"I don't know, but he has had dealings with the Governor, Lord Forster, in the past, so there is a connection there."

Kane was not convinced. The evidence for Abby and Thomas being there was flimsy. Why would Alasdair keep them so close? He must know that Kane would hear of it sooner rather than later if they were indeed there.

"What is the other possibility?"

"Studley Royal Park."

"Where's that?"

"It's in Yorkshire, not far from Ripon and just off the Great North Road."

"I have not heard of it. Does it have Royal connections?"

"It's a large house set in a huge park. I believe that Kings and Queens of England have hunted there from time to time. It belongs to a family who are prominent in the English Royal Court."

"What could Alasdair Griffin possibly have to do with people like that?"

"The eldest son was educated in Scotland, at the same school as Alasdair. He is now the Lord of the manor."

"Ah." That made more sense. It would be typical of Alasdair to call on old ties to help him. "What makes ye think he has taken Abby and Thomas there?"

"I have a reliable source who claims to have seen Alasdair there just two days ago. The source was visiting for the day so could not say whether Alasdair was visiting himself or staying there on a more permanent basis."

"How many days' ride is it to Ripon?"

"At least three days if we are to take it easy."

"And what if we ride hard?"

"Kane. Jackson said ye are not to exert yerself."

"I don't give a damn what Jackson said. Every day longer we take is a day longer Abby has to endure being with HIM, a day longer that I don't see my wife and my son. I've wasted enough time as it is."

Sinclair sighed. "We could make it in less than two days but ye'll never do it on that nag of yers."

"I can take Abby's horse, Juno."

"Is that where ye want to go first, then, to Ripon?"

"Aye. If he's been seen there, then that's the best lead we have."

"Very well. I'll make the arrangements and we can be ready to leave first thing in the morning."

Kane stood up, strode over to the door. "We're leaving today."

Sinclair followed him, put his hand against the door as Kane was about to open it. "Ye're not in a fit state to go now. A good night's rest and ye'll be much stronger."

"I'm not wasting daylight, Sinclair. Move yer hand from the door."

Sinclair stayed where he was and they stared at each other. Kane knew Sinclair had his best interests at heart, but he couldn't allow any further delay. "Ye're either with me, or against me. Move yer hand."

Sinclair moved his hand from the door, allowing Kane to open it and go out into the courtyard.

"Ye're going to kill yerself, Kane."

"Aye. Well, ye can enjoy saying I told ye so to my corpse."

Sinclair stared at him for a moment, and then shook his head, laughing. "What does Abigail see in thee?"

"Apparently, my nose has a charm."

Sinclair laughed again. "That's one word fer it! Let's get the horses saddled, then. I can see this journey is going to be long in more ways than one."

Abby was pacing the length of her room, waiting for the nurse to bring Thomas to her. She knew he was ready for a feed because her breasts were leaking milk, and she was aching for him. She had begged Alasdair to let him stay with her all the time because he was feeding so often, but he had refused. As a consequence, she was stuck in a ridiculous cycle of Thomas being brought to her ten or twelve times a day, her feeding him, and then him being taken away again. This had been going on for nearly a fortnight. Thomas was thriving physically, growing bigger every day, but Abby was worried he was not getting the emotional love he needed. She could hear him crying at all times of the day and night, and no one seemed to be soothing him. Abby was exhausted, and helpless. Before Alasdair took them away she and Thomas had been together all the time and they had developed a routine of feeding and sleeping that allowed her some rest. And she had had Marcus, of course, to care for him while she slept. Now there was just this relentless cycle, and Abby barely slept at all. It was Alasdair's way of torturing her, punishing her for what she had done. She wasn't going to give up, though, give in. She lived for the moments she had with Thomas, tried to make the most of them, and in between she thought of Marcus, worried about him, wondered if he was alright, if he was out of the gaol, and looking for her.

The door opened and the nurse walked in with Thomas in her arms. He was snuffling, as though he had been crying for so long there were no tears left in him. Abby ran towards the nurse, snatched him out of her arms and retreated to her chair by the window. The nurse didn't speak to Abby, and Abby didn't speak to her, but they had developed an unspoken agreement. Abby didn't cause any fuss, and the nurse stood outside the door, giving her precious time alone with her son. Thomas reached for her breast and she kissed his head as he latched on and started suckling. These moments used to be so happy and now she always wanted to cry because they made her think of Marcus, and how much he had enjoyed watching her feed their son, endlessly amused by the noises Thomas made and the way his eyes sometimes rolled back a little with pleasure. Now Marcus was missing out on these moments. He didn't know that Thomas was focussing on Abby's face more, that he grasped her finger when she tickled his palm, or that he could hold his head up for a few moments when she sat him up to wind him. She saved the crying for when he had gone, though. Instead, she told Thomas tales of his father, and how they had met, and Thomas closed his eyes and she imagined him listening, taking it all in.

"My beautiful boy," she said, as she stroked his hair. "Your father is thinking about you all the time. He misses you so much. When you were born, Thomas, he cradled you in his arms, and he called you his wolf cub, and you know something that will always be true? A wolf never deserts his pack." She kissed the top of his head again. "He's coming for us, my darling, I can feel it."

Thomas opened his eyes and she smiled at him. He smiled back at her for the first time, and she thought her heart would burst with happiness until milk came spurting out of his mouth all over her chest. She had forgotten that at this age, a smile was more of a warning of imminent disaster than it was an expression of emotion. She laid him on the bed while she cleaned herself up and then picked him up again, walking round the room with him laid against her shoulder, rubbing his back gently, hoping he would drift off to sleep before the nurse came back. He hardly ever went to sleep in her arms now, there was so little time, and she missed that, missed the heavy warmth of him, his gentle snores. She even missed the pins and needles she got in her arms from not wanting to disturb him.

The door opened and she turned around with a sigh. The time had passed too quickly, as it always did. It wasn't the nurse standing in the doorway, though. It was Alasdair. She hadn't seen him for a few days and it was a shock to find him standing there. Abby held Thomas tighter to her. It was a reflex, brought on by her own fears, for he had never shown any violence to the boy.

"How's my son?" he said as he walked towards Abby.

"He's not your son."

Alasdair shook his head, tutting at her. "Must we have this conversation every time I see you, Abigail?"

"We can have this conversation until the cows come home, Alasdair. He is not your son, he will never be your son, no matter what you try and tell yourself."

"Your opinion is irrelevant. He's a Griffin through and through, aren't you, William."

Abby scowled. She hated hearing Alasdair call Thomas by that name. Hated him looking at the boy, touching him, holding him. Alasdair held his arms out for her to hand Thomas over but she clutched him to her.

Alasdair sighed. "I am growing tired of this charade, Abigail. There is a wet nurse in the village who can be here at a moment's notice, and when you are no longer needed, what will become of you? Give me my son."

Abby handed Thomas to Alasdair and he held him in the air, shaking him, pulling faces at him. Thomas gurgled with pleasure and Abby bunched her hands into fists. It was all she could do not to lunge at Alasdair, poke her thumbs in his eyes and press until they popped.

"Be gentle with him. He has just been sick."

"Don't tell me how to be with my son. You are not his mother, you are nothing more than a dairy cow."

Abby laughed. He obviously meant that to be insulting but she didn't care what he thought of her. "That may be, but your 'son' needs me. He is thriving, and that's what you want, isn't it?"

The nurse entered the room and Alasdair gave Thomas to her. "See that William is bathed and put to bed. I will be up to see him shortly."

Abby watched with a deep ache in her heart as Thomas left the room. A piece of her died every time, and she sometimes felt she was disappearing, little by little. Her world had shrunk to this room, to Thomas, the nurse, a maid, and Alasdair. She wasn't allowed out; the maid brought her meals, water to wash with, removed her chamber pot. She was as much a prisoner as Marcus had been, albeit she was comfortable, whereas she didn't like to think about the conditions he must have endured.

"You are feeding him well, I will give you that," said Alasdair.

"When can I go outside, Alasdair? I need sunlight, fresh air. It is good for my milk, for… William." It was painful uttering that name, but she had pushed her luck with Alasdair already today. He dangled the threat of her losing Thomas over her head like the Sword of Damocles and she had to tread carefully, for fear of shaking it loose.

"It is laughable to me that you think I would trust you for even one second after you betrayed me for months, giving yourself to that monster, lying to my face."

"And it is laughable to me that you can say that when you know you betrayed your brother in the cruellest way possible, robbing him of his life, his child of her father, his wife of her husband. YOU are not to be trusted."

Alasdair shifted uncomfortably as he always did when she brought up the subject of Jacob. "I did that for you. You did what you did for yourself."

Abby shook her head. "The two cannot be compared."

"No, they cannot, because I am a respected Laird and you are a dirty whore. There is no comparison to be made between us."

"Alasdair. Whatever you think of me, I only have William's best interests at heart. Who is taking care of him when I am not with him? He cries all the time, he doesn't seem to be comforted, or nursed. Has he even been outside?"

"None of that is your concern."

"Perhaps not, but I beg you to consider what I have said. Do not punish the child for my acts."

Alasdair gave her a penetrating look, and then turned to leave. He stopped at the door, and turned back, a sly smile on his face.

"By the way, your Wolf is free, and he has been looking for you."

Abby's heart leapt. Marcus was alive, and coming for her. She tried to keep her face as still as possible but her lips must have tugged into a slight smile because Alasdair nodded.

"That's right. Smile at the news. It won't be long before you see him again."

Abby frowned. Alasdair seemed unconcerned that Marcus was on his way to rescue her. "What do you mean?"

"He is coming here, and I am ready for him. The Wolf is heading for my trap, and this time he won't escape." He grinned at her, and then left the room, locking the door behind him.

Abby was left standing staring at the space where he had been, her heart thumping, her stomach churning. She should have known Alasdair wouldn't honour his agreement to leave Marcus alone if she came quietly. She had played her part, done as she was told, and it had made no difference. She didn't know how long it would be before Marcus arrived, for she wasn't sure where she was. She knew they hadn't gone too far, certainly not to France, or London. She had to try and escape with Thomas before Marcus got here, had to warn him somehow, but she had no idea how she was going to do it. She sat in her chair and looked out of the window. She could see the moorland just the other side of the wall. It represented freedom, and home, so close, and yet so far away. She was locked in a room in a tower, behind thick walls taller than three men. There was no way out that she could see.

The next day, when Thomas was brought to her, it was a different nurse than usual. This one was young, and had a nice face, with chubby cheeks and warm brown eyes. She handed the baby to Abby with a smile. Abby decided to risk talking to her in the hope that Alasdair had not yet poisoned her heart and mind against Abby as he had done to the last one with his tales of her betrayal that were far worse than anything she had actually done.

"Where is the usual nurse?"

"I don't know, Mistress. I was summoned this morning from the village."

"You are not a wet nurse?" Abby was alarmed. Was this the woman from the village Alasdair kept threatening her with? Surely not; she was far too young to have a baby of her own.

"No. I am here to comfort the child and bring him to you when he is hungry."

"I see." So, Alasdair had listened to her after all, and had got rid of the nurse who was neglecting Thomas. This was an interesting turn of events.

"He is a bonny baby, Mistress."

"Yes, he is. He's just like his father." Abby settled in her chair and let Thomas feed.

"Really? He doesn't look much like the Master to me."

Abby smiled. She was warming to this girl already. "What is your name?"

"Marianne."

"Do you know why I am locked up in here, Marianne?"

The girl looked down at the floor. "Only the rumours, Mistress."

"And what are they?" Thomas had drunk his fill from her breast, and she shifted him to the other to see if he wanted more.

"That you have gone mad, since the baby."

"Ah." Abby laughed. "Do I look mad to you?"

Marianne shook her head.

"I have displeased the Master, and that is why I am in here. He may tell you all sorts of tales about me, but they are not true, I want you to remember that."

"I will, Mistress."

"Are you going to take Thom… William outside today? He has not had much fresh air lately."

"I am to take him into the grounds, but not beyond the walls."

"He will enjoy that. When you next bring him to me, will you describe where you have been to me? What the outside looks like? I have been inside for so long I have quite forgotten what it is like out there."

"Oh, I will, Mistress, yes. I am very good at describing. My pa always says I…"

"Thank you, Marianne," said Abby, cutting the girl off before she launched into the long story that Abby felt sure was coming. "I would like a moment alone with my son, if you don't mind. Just a moment."

"Oh, yes, of course. I will be outside."

Abby lifted Thomas into the air and kissed his nose. "You keep your eyes open, Thomas Robert, and tell me everything you see. You and mama are getting out of here."

Thomas reached for Abby's face, one hand grasping her nose, the other poking her in the eye. It made her eye water but she ignored it. She lifted him higher, and blew against his stomach, letting her lips vibrate and make a noise because it was something Marcus always did with him, and it made him wriggle with delight. Then the door opened, and Marianne came across to take him.

"I'm sorry, Mistress."

Abby nodded. "It is alright. I will see you again soon."

They left and Abby sat back in the chair, plotting her next moves. She would know more when Marianne came back and described the layout of the building and grounds to her. Then Abby had to obtain the key somehow. Perhaps she could persuade Marianne to help her, or distract her enough that she forgot to lock the door. Of course, she could always overpower Marianne, lock her in the room and leave with Thomas. Abby didn't want to have to do that, but if the girl wouldn't help, she would have no choice.

 **Studley Royal Park, Yorkshire**

Kane and Sinclair crouched by the wall that surrounded the park in which Studley Royal House was set. The sun had set long ago, but they had waited, and waited, until they were as sure as they could be that any occupants of the house would be asleep. They had arrived in Ripon in the afternoon, exactly two days after they had set out from the camp at Broad Law, and had spent time in the Coaching Inn, replenishing their energy with hot food, and discussing their best course of action. Kane was tired from the hard riding but Juno was a horse that liked to gallop, and he had found she was happy to take the lead, needing very little guidance from him. He had been able to rest as they flew over the moors that flanked the Great North Road. Sinclair had done everything else, setting up their camp at night, fetching the water, making the potions up for Kane to drink, preparing the meals. Kane had protested at first but Sinclair had insisted and Kane was glad he had. He felt much more like his old self. It got dark late in August, and it had been torturous waiting for the right moment to break into the house so they could look for Abby. They had no idea where she might be, or whether Alasdair was with her. All their enquiries in the Inn had drawn a blank. No one had heard of anyone new arriving at the house, and no one had seen a woman and a bairn in the grounds or in the village. Kane wasn't surprised; Alasdair was probably keeping Abby inside, unwilling to trust her after she had tried to kill him at Arkholm.

When he had deemed they had waited long enough, Kane looked at Sinclair. "It's now or never."

"Aye," said Sinclair. "Let's get this done."

Kane boosted him up onto the top of the wall, and Sinclair reached down, grabbing Kane's arm and pulling him up. They lowered themselves down the other side, dropping the final few feet and landing on the grass with a dull thud. The grounds of the house were enormous. They had chosen an area to the rear of the house where there was woodland and they weaved stealthily through the trees, the dim lights coming from the windows of the house just pinpricks in the distance but they were their only guide. When they reached the edge of the woods there was an expanse of lawn to cross that was longer than their entire camp back at Broad Law. If they were spotted running across here by a patrol there would be no hiding place.

"I will go first," said Sinclair. "Wait for my signal."

Sinclair crept out of the woods, looking all around him as he went. Kane's eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he could see Sinclair as he ran across the lawn towards the wall of the house. He made it to the other side safely, and beckoned Kane, who followed, his heart beating fast. He reached Sinclair and they stood with their backs to the wall.

"The last time I did this, ye caught me," whispered Kane.

"Aye, and ye held a knife to my throat, threatened to cut me from ear to ear."

"Good times," said Kane, and Sinclair snorted as he tried to hold his laughter in.

"The door should be just along here." Sinclair headed east along the wall of the house and Kane followed him until they came to a door. Sinclair turned the handle and it opened. "Told ye it would be open," he said, and disappeared inside.

Kane hesitated. It all seemed too convenient to him; a heavily guarded house with a door that was left open so that the young master of the house could sneak his unsuitable mistresses in without his father knowing. Kane didn't know how reliable Sinclair's source was. It could be a trap, and if it was, he was about to walk to his doom. Sinclair poked his head round the door. "What are ye waiting for?"

Kane nodded and entered the house. He was here now. In for a penny, in for a pound. They emerged into a large kitchen and walked across it to another door which led to the back stairs. This was the way to the servants' quarters but Sinclair's source had told him there was a door off the second flight that opened into the main house, and the floor where the Lord and his family and guests slept. The stairway was cold and damp, lit by a series of candles set in the stone walls. Sinclair's shadow loomed over Kane as he led the way up to the second floor. There was a landing and the door was set to the left. Sinclair opened it and they slipped through into the main part of the house. The hallway they were standing in was much better lit than the stairs, which was helpful to aid their search but left Kane feeling exposed. The door they had emerged from was at one end of the hallway, with a much grander staircase leading down to the ground floor. Ahead of them was a long hall with many doors off each side.

"How many rooms are there?" whispered Kane.

"There are sixteen bedchambers."

"That's a lot of rooms. We'll take a side each."

The split up to check the rooms. There was no way of knowing who was in what room, if anyone, or whether anybody they encountered would be awake. They just had to open the doors as quietly as possible and hope for the best. It wasn't a very good plan, Kane realised now that he was standing here, looking at the first door. So many things could go wrong, but they had little choice and they had decided when they were talking it over at the Inn, that if anything went wrong they would simply fight their way out, and somehow also find Abby and Thomas. It was a very bad plan. He sighed, and reached out to put his hand on the doorknob, turning it with aching slowness, putting his shoulder to the door to ease it open. As soon as there was a gap big enough to poke his head round he did. The room was large, and the bed was at the far end, but Kane could see it was not being slept in. The room was empty. He closed the door and turned to see Sinclair doing the same. They both shook their heads at the same time. Kane did the same for the next room, and the one after that, and the one after that. By the time he had closed the door on the fifth room he was concerned that they were on a wild goose chase. Sinclair had come across one sleeping man on his side but it was not Alasdair or anyone he recognised. They met in the middle of the hallway outside the sixth doors. Ten rooms searched, six to go.

Kane stroked his beard as he contemplated the search so far. "I dinnae think she's here, Sinclair," he whispered.

"There are still six rooms," replied Sinclair.

"Aye, but there's no noise, no life. Where's the sound of the bairn crying?"

Sinclair shrugged. "He's asleep."

"That would be a first. We've been in the house a good while now, and nothing. He's a noisy wee thing. I cannae believe he's not wanting his mama."

"For all we know he's with her now, and they're curled up behind one of these doors. Just get them searched and then we'll know."

Kane returned to door number six but his heart was heavy. They were in the wrong house, he knew it. He turned the door and was surprised to see someone lying in the bed, their back to him. He crept across the floor to the other side of the bed so he could see their face. It was a young man. Kane hardly felt disappointed because he was expecting it not to be Abby. He retreated and shut the door quietly. Sinclair held up two fingers to him to indicate he'd found two people in the room but he shook his head. They were not Abby and Thomas. Door number seven was empty and that left one room on each side. It also meant that if Alasdair, Abby and Thomas were here, then they would be behind these doors. Kane could only hope that they were in separate rooms. He couldn't bear the thought of opening this door and finding Alasdair in bed with Abby, Thomas lying next to them. The thought made him feel sick. He took a deep breath and opened the final door. This room was much larger than the others he had seen, and the bed was a large four-poster with curtains around it. The sound of someone snoring drifted out from within, soft snores, gentle, just puffs of escaping air. Abby snored like that sometimes. Kane felt hope rise in his chest, and he crossed to the bed quickly, pulling the curtain back without thinking. One of the two people within sat up startled, knocking their snoring partner with their elbow, waking her up. Kane didn't know who these people were but they weren't Abby or Alasdair.

"What in damnation!" The man yelled and swung his legs over the bed to get up. The woman grasped the sheets to her and started screaming. Kane ran for the door.

"Sinclair!" he shouted as he pulled the door behind him, holding on to it as hard as he could while the man in the room pulled in the opposite direction.

Sinclair came running out of the other room. "Keep yer voice down!"

Kane shook his head. "It's too late!" The door behind him rattled and Sinclair's eyes opened wide.

"Oh," he said.

"Run!" said Kane, and he let Sinclair get a head start before releasing his grip on the door and following him as quickly as he could. Sinclair yanked open the door to the stairs and they ran down the stone steps taking them two at once. Other voices were rousing now, some coming from the servants' rooms above, the rest the voices of the men they had encountered in their search of the rooms. The door opened above them and Kane could hear one man giving instructions to another.

"Go through the main house, cut them off."

Sinclair pushed open the door to the kitchen and Kane followed him through. They skidded to a halt when they saw a large man standing at the stove, a meat cleaver in his hand. The cook must have risen to start his working day while they were searching the rooms. He was so startled that he didn't move and Kane pushed Sinclair towards the back door. Sinclair had his hand on the doorknob just as the cook shouted "Hey!" and headed towards them, the cleaver raised ready to strike.

"Shit!" said Sinclair. The door was sticking and he couldn't get it open.

"Get out of the way," shouted Kane, and he pulled on the door with all his strength. It gave way more easily than he expected and he flew backwards, still clutching the door. Sinclair steadied him and then grabbed his arm and pulled him through the door. The clouds had lifted and the moon was bright. They ran across the lawn and made it to the trees just as two men came around from the front of the house and joined the cook in the chase.

"The things ye are getting me into," panted Sinclair as they ran through the trees, stumbling over exposed roots, branches hitting them in the face.

"Never a dull moment," replied Kane. "Here, let me give ye a leg up." They had reached the wall and Sinclair stood on Kane's laced hands to boost himself up so he could grab the top of the wall. Kane lifted him and then reached out for Sinclair's arm, scrambling his feet up the wall to give himself purchase as Sinclair pulled him up and over the top. Kane looked back briefly before he jumped down to the other side. The men's shouts were getting louder and as they emerged from the trees and looked up at the wall Kane smiled at them, and then dropped down to the ground, landing with a painful bump as his knees buckled and his hip took the force of the fall.

"Fuck!" he cried as the pain washed over him, making him dizzy for a moment.

"Take my hand," said Sinclair and he grabbed Kane, pulling him to his feet and then dragging him along behind as they ran through the maze of streets until they found where they had tied up their horses. Kane could hardly get his foot in the stirrup, let alone lift himself onto Juno, but Sinclair put both hands on his arse and shoved him so hard momentum swung him up onto the top of the horse. He squeezed Juno's flanks with his thighs and she responded, setting off at a gallop through the streets until they were beyond the limits of the village and only the dark moorland lay ahead.

When he was certain they were not being followed, Kane pulled on the reins to bring Juno to a halt. Sinclair stopped beside him, his breaths as loud and ragged as Kane's were. They were silent for a moment while they gathered themselves.

"That was a close thing," said Sinclair with a laugh.

"Aye, it's been a while since I had that much excitement."

"We need to rest," said Sinclair, "set up the camp."

"No. I don't know what Alasdair was doing in that house, if he was ever there, but they're not there now. We need to get to Northumberland, to Bamburgh Castle. She's there, I know she is."

"Aye, we do, but not until after we've had some rest. Ye're still recovering."

"There'll be time to recover once we've got them back. I'm not waiting, Sinclair. Ye can either come with me or I'll go alone."

Sinclair sighed and shook his head. "This is a folly, Kane, ye know it is."

Kane shrugged. Whether it was a mistake or not, he couldn't wait any longer. "Are ye coming or no?"

Sinclair turned his horse so that it was facing north east. "Lead on."

Kane turned Juno in the same direction and set off across the moor at a slower pace. As tempting as it was to gallop the whole way, he knew even Juno would tire long before they made it to Bamburgh. He had to be patient, protect the horse, conserve all their energies as much as he could so that he was ready to face Alasdair and get Abby and Thomas back. The North Sea was calling; he could almost smell it, taste the salt on the air, feel the black water ice cold as it flowed through his veins.

"Let's go and find your mistress," he said to Juno, and sat back in the saddle, letting the horse lead the way.


	20. An Ending

CHAPTER TWENTY – AN ENDING

 **Bamburgh Castle, Northumberland**

Abby stood with her ear to the door, listening for the sounds of Marianne's footsteps. The girl was due any moment, bringing Thomas for his morning feed, and Abby was ready. Her heart was racing, her hands cold and clammy, for this was the moment she had been waiting for, when she put her escape plan into action. Marianne had been true to her word yesterday and had given Abby a long and detailed description of the castle and the grounds while Abby fed Thomas and tried to look only casually interested in the girl's words. It had taken Abby half the night to formulate the plan, work out all its advantages, find all the flaws and weaknesses that would lead to failure. There were many, and she hadn't fully solved them all, but there was no time. Marcus could not be far away, and she had to get to the village, find a place to hide where she could see his approach and stop him before it was too late.

Abby didn't need to have her ear to the door to hear Thomas crying, the sound was getting louder as Marianne walked up the stairs with him, stopping outside the door to Abby's chamber. Abby put her hand on the door, and Thomas quietened, as if he could sense her, or was anticipating what was waiting for him on the other side. Marianne slipped the key in the lock and turned it, and the door pushed open towards Abby, who moved with it, so that she was behind it, and invisible to Marianne. The girl came into the room, looking around, a puzzled look on her face when she realised the room was empty. When she had walked far enough away from the door, Abby shut it and leant against it. Marianne turned, surprised.

"Mistress! I was wondering where you were."

"Give me the key, Marianne."

Marianne frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"Give me the key to the door. Please."

The girl shook her head, confusion all over her face. "I can't, Mistress. You know I can't."

Abby took her hand from behind her back, revealing the weapon she had spent the other half of the night searching for. It was a metal bar she had found in the bottom of a tapestry, used to weight it down. It wasn't sharp, but it was long and narrow, and she could do some damage with it if she put enough force behind it. She had no intention of doing so, hoping that the threat would be enough. Marianne gasped when she saw it.

"Put Thomas down on the bed," said Abby.

The girl laid the baby on the bed, wrapping his blanket around him so tenderly Abby felt a stab of guilt. He was whimpering again, soft cries that would change to loud wails if he didn't get his milk soon. Her hand wavered as she held the weapon aloft, but she forced herself to stay calm, to follow the plan.

"Now hand me the key."

Marianne came forward, stopping an arm's length from Abby, eyeing the weapon fearfully. She reached in her pocket and held out the key, which Abby took.

"Go and stand at the back of the room." She waited until Marianne had complied then turned quickly and locked the door, putting the key into her pouch. She crossed then to Thomas, picking him up and retreating to the door with him. It was awkward trying to position him and hold the weapon at the same time so she leant the bar against the door while she nestled him in one arm and gave him her breast to suckle from. She picked the weapon up again and stood against the door, baby in one arm, metal bar in the other. If ever there was a more ridiculous sight she didn't know what it was, but she had to feed Thomas before they went anywhere otherwise his cries would alert the whole castle.

"I'm sorry to have to do this to you, Marianne. I tried to think of a better way but there wasn't one."

"Why are you doing it, Mistress? I don't understand."

"It's a long story, but the Master isn't a nice person. He has done some terrible things, hurt people, killed people. He kidnapped me and Thomas from our home, took us away from Thomas's father, and now he's holding me here and he's never going to let me go. He means to kill Thomas's father and then me, and take the baby for himself."

Marianne was open-mouthed. "Why?"

"Because he's always wanted a son, and this is his chance, but Thomas is not his, and I can't let him grow up with a man like that. If you don't believe me, I can show you the scars from the beatings I've taken."

"I didn't think the baby was his; he has none of his looks or his colouring."

"I told you, he takes after his father, and he's on his way here now to rescue us, but it is a trap, Marianne. I have to escape so I can find him and stop him."

"Well what are you going to do? The castle is well-guarded; you will not get out."

"Remember that unused gate you told me about yesterday? The Battery Gate, and the key that is in the Commander's office of this tower?"

"Oh." A look of shame coloured Marianne's face as she realised that her carefree gossip of the day before had given Abby all the information she needed to escape the castle. Abby felt ashamed as well, and sorry for the girl.

"I'm sorry for tricking you, but I had to find out as much as I could. I'm going to get the key from the Commander's office and Thomas and I will escape through the gate."

"Mistress, how are you going to do this with a baby in your arms? It is impossible."

"It is not impossible. I need to be careful that is all."

Marianne perched on the edge of the bed. She was quiet, a thoughtful look on her face. After a moment, she spoke. "I will get the key for you."

Abby's heart swelled at her words. She seemed so sincere, wishing to be helpful, but Abby had been fooled before.

"No, I'm sorry, but I can't trust you. I want to, but I have been betrayed in the past."

"Then let me come with you. I can hold Thomas while you search, or you can hold him while I do."

Thomas had stopped suckling and Abby looked down at him; his eyes were closing and he was falling asleep. She tucked her breast back into her bodice and held Thomas against her shoulder, contemplating the girl's suggestion as she did so.

"Why would you help me? You don't know me."

"No, but it isn't right, what is happening. The child should be with you all the time. I have to ask myself why the Master is preventing that, and I don't know if what you say is true, but no one should treat a baby this way."

Abby shook her head. "No, it is too dangerous. What if we are caught? I will not risk your life as well as my own."

"The Master is not the Lord here, he is a guest. He can't do anything to me. No, it is settled. I will help you get to the gate."

Abby felt relief mixed with wariness. Someone to help with Thomas would make the plan easier, speed things up, but she had only known this girl two days, and even though her instincts told her she could be trusted, it was better to be cautious.

"Very well. Then we need to go now, while Thomas is asleep. Did you see anyone in the Commander's office as you passed?"

"No, but I did not look in properly."

"Then we shall just have to take a chance. Help me make the blanket into a sling."

Marianne folded the blanket and they put Thomas in it, before wrapping it around Abby's back and shoulder. Abby checked that he could breathe; his head was resting against her breast and he was snoring. She smiled at him. "Won't be long now, darling," she whispered.

While Abby and Marianne were searching in the Commander's office for the key to the Battery Gate, Kane and Sinclair were on the opposite side of the castle, crouched by the wall of the Keep, having used a grapple and line to scale the high outer wall of the castle complex. Sinclair had made discrete enquiries in the village, and had been told the rumours of the mad woman being held in the Keep. That had to be the tale Alasdair had put out to explain their presence. The grounds of the castle were empty, and everything was quiet. Too quiet for Kane's liking, but he had no idea how the castle was normally run, how many people lived here, whether the family was at home or not. When Alasdair had been away from Duns House, Kane had been able to get in to see Abby with ease, there were so few guards on duty. Perhaps it was the same here.

"Do ye want the rope now?" asked Sinclair.

"Aye. Pass it here. We'll search the Keep together. Anyone we find we overpower and tie up."

Sinclair nodded, and passed the rope to Kane who cut it into lengths with his knife. "I'll do the overpowering, you do the tying. Ye're still in pain."

"I can fight through the pain, but it might be better if ye take the lead, just in case."

"I never thought I'd live tae see the day," said Sinclair with a laugh.

"What do ye mean?"

"Marcus Kane, listening to reason."

Kane pulled an amused face at Sinclair. "Mark the day."

"I will. Are ye ready?"

Kane nodded, and followed Sinclair into the Keep. They crept up the stairs, looking into every room as they had last night at the house in Yorkshire. As before, the rooms were empty. Where the hell was everyone? It was eerily quiet, and Kane's nerves were on edge. They reached the top floor, and Kane tensed as he put his hand on the door handle and turned it. He was expecting it to be locked if indeed Abby and Thomas were being held here, but it turned easily and disappointment washed over him before he even stepped into the room and confirmed what his heart already knew; it was empty. It was a large room, and he started to search it for signs they had been there. Sinclair entered the room and stood next to Kane, hands on hips, looking annoyed.

"She's not here, Sinclair. There's no sign she's ever been here."

"Dammit! My source was so certain. I'm sorry, Kane. I really thought he was trustworthy."

"You can't trust anyone, have you not learned that yet?" A familiar voice spoke from behind them, and Kane's heart seemed to drop into his stomach. He looked at Sinclair, seeing his own shock and despair reflected in his friend's face. Together they turned to face Alasdair Griffin.

The man was standing just inside the doorway, a smug look on his face. He was flanked by two guards, and Kane could see others out in the hallway.

"Yes, that's right, you are surrounded" said Alasdair. "There's no escape this time."

"Ye knew we would come here?" Kane wasn't all that surprised. He should have realised when he found out they were only across the border from Scotland that it was a trap, but he'd been so hell bent on getting to Abby he hadn't bothered to wonder why they weren't in France or London.

"I've known everything you've done since you got out of the gaol, since you took my wife away from me in fact."

Kane turned to look at Sinclair. Had the man betrayed him after all? Sinclair shook his head at Kane's unasked question. "It wasn't me."

"No," said Alasdair. "Sinclair's betrayal of me was a shock I will admit. I knew someone on the inside was tipping you off about me, but I didn't know who, so I had all my top people followed, and imagine my surprise to find out Sinclair's trips away on my business were in fact visits to you and my whore of a wife."

"Don't talk about Abby like that," muttered Kane.

"Abby!" Alasdair spat the name out. "You really must have something special between your legs to have turned her so completely. From Lady to peasant in a single year!" He laughed. "Are you proud of what you've done?"

"Are thee? My conscience is clear. I doubt ye can say the same."

Alasdair shifted his weight from leg to leg, glanced at his guards.

"What's the matter?" asked Kane. "Are ye worried someone will find out there's more than one Kane in this room? Ye do know the Bible story, I presume?"

"You're not as clever as you think you are. You're trying to make me tell the guards to leave so you can overpower me like you did last time, but I've been ten steps ahead of you, and I'm ahead of you now."

"What do you mean?" asked Sinclair.

"Did you enjoy your trip to Yorkshire? A fine county, I have lots of friends there. It was most pleasant catching up with them again. You must be tired, though, riding all the way there, and then all the way here. Have you slept at all? Are you hungry, thirsty, in pain?"

Kane grimaced. The extent of how well Alasdair had played them was clear. They had been pawns in his game all along. He was right, they were tired, and weak, prone to bad judgement, making mistakes. They were how he wanted them, and the question now was what did he have planned next, and more urgently, what had he done to Abby? He had to know.

"Where is Abby? What have you done to her, and Thomas?"

" _William_ , is none of your concern. As for Abigail, well, you can see for yourself shortly. I have done nothing to her, yet. I was waiting for you. My only dilemma now, is whether to kill her first, and make you watch, or the other way around."

Kane lunged towards Alasdair, pulling his ballack knife out of its holster as he moved. Sinclair tried to grab him to hold him back, and at the same time the guards ran forward, and Kane got caught between them, Sinclair pulling him one way, the guards the other. His knife dropped from his hand, clattering onto the floor. Alasdair stood back, arms folded, and laughed.

"Let's take a trip shall we, to see your lover. She's been waiting for you."

He nodded to the guards who were waiting outside the door and they entered the room, surrounding Kane and Sinclair, hustling them out of the door and down the stairs as they followed Alasdair across the courtyard. They entered another stone building that straddled the route into the castle, and went up two flights of stairs, pausing outside a large wooden door. Alasdair put a key in the lock, and turned it. Kane's heart leapt, despite the circumstances. He was going to see Abby at last.

Alasdair opened the door and stepped inside. The guards followed, pushing Kane and Sinclair along too. They all came to a jumbled stop when Alasdair did, and Kane could see immediately what had caused him to stop so suddenly. The room was empty! Abby was not there. Confused thoughts raced around Kane's head. What had happened to Abby? Where was she?

Alasdair turned, his face red with fury. "Go and fetch my son!" He shouted, and one of the guards ran from the room.

Kane wanted to say something; a gloat was resting on his lips, just waiting to be given voice, but he kept his mouth shut. He wasn't sure what was happening; but the last thing he wanted was to jeopardise Abby's safety because he couldn't resist a dig at this disgusting ex-husband of hers. It seemed an age before the guard returned, his face white.

"The baby is gone, my Lord."

"What do you mean, he's gone?" Alasdair turned the shade of a beetroot, his face red, the veins standing out an angry purple.

"He is not in his room, he is nowhere to be found."

Alasdair stood with his hands clenched into fists, glaring at the guard who had brought the news. Kane could hardly contain his joy as the realisation hit him. Abby had escaped with Thomas! Oh, what a beautiful, courageous, clever woman she was! Whatever happened to him now he did not care about. She was free, and hopefully safely hidden somewhere. He looked at Sinclair and smiled. Sinclair smiled back. Alasdair was not smiling; he was muttering to himself, pacing the room. Kane watched him as he walked towards the window, saw as he quickened his pace, pressed his hands to the glass, then his face, looking intently outside. His expression changed from one of anger, to surprise, and then determination. Kane felt a cold chill settle in his veins. What had Alasdair seen? Alasdair turned and pushed Kane out of the way, splitting the group of men crowded into the room in two as he made his way out of the door. Kane ran over to the window and looked out. Two women were stumbling across the moor towards the sea. Kane didn't have to look long to know one of them was Abby; her long braid and blue dress were unmistakeable.

"It's Abby," he shouted to Sinclair, and then he followed Alasdair, dodging the guards who were too startled to move quickly enough to stop him. He ran down the stairs and out onto the road. Alasdair was a few yards ahead, shouting to the guards at the Gatehouse to open the gate. It opened slowly, and Alasdair squeezed through as soon as there was a gap big enough for his overfed body. Kane was close behind him but one of the guards stepped in front of him as he tried to pass through the gate. The other guard ran behind to apprehend Sinclair. Kane tussled with the guard, taking a couple of hits to the face before managing to punch him in the stomach, winding him enough that he was able to get free. He left Sinclair to fend for himself and ran out onto the moors. His hip was screaming with pain and he was limping more than running as he forced himself across the uneven ground.

He looked ahead. The two women had come to a halt. Abby had some kind of sling around her, presumably containing Thomas, and she was clutching it tightly to her breast. Alasdair was standing close to her. He was shouting, his words coming to Kane on the breeze, along with Thomas's cries.

"Give me my son, Abigail."

"I will never give him to you."

Alasdair moved closer to her and Abby stepped back. The other woman, who Kane could now see was a young girl, stood in front of Abby and Alasdair knocked her down, like she was nothing; he just pulled his arm back like he was tensing the string on a bow, and then released it full into the side of her head. Kane let out a strangled cry he was so shocked. Abby dropped to her knees beside the stricken girl, one arm holding Thomas, the other hand stroking her face. Kane could hear her speaking the girls' name over and over again.

"Abby!" Kane screamed her name and Abby looked up, her face contorted into grief, and fear.

"Marcus? Oh, Marcus!" She was trying to get up when Alasdair grabbed her arm, dragging her to her feet, pulling her away from the approaching Kane. He put his arm around her neck, and Kane was shocked to see an object glinting in the sun; it was Alasdair's ballack knife, and he was pressing it to Abby's throat.

"No!"

"Stay back, Kane."

Kane ignored him, moved closer so that he was no more than a sword's length away.

"I mean it. Come any closer and I'll slit her throat." Alasdair pressed harder, drawing a drop of blood like Kane had done to him so many months ago.

Kane held his hands up. "Alright. I will not come closer. Let Abigail go."

"I let her go once, and I'm not doing that again." He stepped back, and Kane's heart leapt into his mouth. They were at the edge of a cliff; a couple more steps and they would plunge down into the sea.

"What do you want, Alasdair? What do you hope to achieve by this?" Abby's voice was low and calm as she spoke. She was rocking Thomas in her arms, trying to quiet him.

Kane stayed silent, thinking about his best move while Abby tried to soothe Alasdair and Thomas, bring the tension down.

"What I've always wanted, my son."

"Let us go back to the castle and talk about it. We can't talk out here."

"There is nothing to talk about. You are going to give me William and then I'm going to have you both arrested and hanged." Alasdair took another step backwards and Kane cried out.

"Ye're going to kill yerself and the bairn if you go any further!"

Alasdair turned to look behind him and Abby seized her moment, elbowing him in the ribs, slipping out from beneath his grasp as he cried out with shock and pain. Kane ran forward and grabbed her, pulling her as far away from Alasdair as he could. He held her to him, Thomas squashed between them, crying.

"Marcus, Marcus!" Abby was crying as well, but Kane didn't have time to comfort her because Alasdair was lunging towards them, knife in hand. Kane spun Abby and Thomas around to shield them and felt a sharp pain as the knife plunged into his back, between his shoulder blades. Time slowed. He could hear Abby shouting, Thomas crying, Alasdair screaming obscenities, but it was like they were far away. He saw Sinclair rush towards the scene, take Abby and Thomas into his arms. He felt another pain as the knife was pulled out of his back, and he turned as Alasdair raised it again. Kane put his head down and barrelled it into Alasdair's stomach, pushing him backwards. Afterwards, he wouldn't know where he got the strength from, but in the moment it was as though he had the strength of all the elements at once, the wind behind him, the earth giving him grip beneath his feet, and the sea urging him on, roaring his name. Alasdair stumbled backwards and Kane got both hands on him, pushing him away from Abby, from Thomas, from everything he had done, all the hurt he had caused. Alasdair still had the knife and he stabbed it at Kane again, catching him in the arm, but Kane didn't notice any pain, so intent was he on getting the man as far away from his family as he could. Then the earth betrayed him, giving way beneath his feet, and he was weightless. His stomach lurched, his breath stuck in his throat. He reached out, clawing at the earth as it slipped away, carrying him with it. His fingers closed around something prickly, a small juniper bush clinging stubbornly to the cliff face. It broke his fall, and his body jerked to a stop, the bush bending under his weight, but holding. Kane's foot found purchase on a small stone in the cliff wall and he hung there, flat against the wall, trying to get his breath back.

"Kane! Hold out yer hand."

He looked up to see Sinclair lying over the jagged edge of the cliff, stretching his hand down towards Kane. Kane reached up, and grasped Sinclair's hand, and then another face appeared over the edge, and a smaller hand reached down towards him. It was Abby. Kane smiled, and let them drag him up the cliff and onto the grass, where he lay gasping, and let Abby pepper his face with kisses.

"Oh, I thought I had lost you," she said between kisses.

"It will take more than that to get rid of me." Kane laughed, and then groaned. His whole body was on fire with pain.

"Let me look at you." Abby turned him over so he was lying on his stomach, and lifted his shirt up.

"Is it bad?" He could feel her warm breath on his back as she bent to look at him, her fingers probing the wound.

"It is clean, in and out."

"Where is Thomas, Abby? Is he safe?"

"He's here. He's fine." Kane turned his head to the side. Sinclair had Thomas in his arms, and the bairn had stopped crying, was gurgling happily.

"Put him next to me."

Sinclair laid Thomas on the grass next to Kane's head and Kane reached out with his good arm and stroked the boy's hair. He had grown since he had last seen him, but he hadn't changed as much as Kane had feared.

"I'm going to need your shirt, Sinclair," said Abby, and Kane heard her tear it into strips before she slipped them under him and wrapped them round the wound in his back, before doing the same with his arm.

"You can sit up now, gently."

Kane eased himself into a sitting position, and Abby put Thomas in his arms before settling down next to him. He hugged the boy tight to him, kissed his head.

"I've missed thee so much, and yer mama." Abby put her arms around him and kissed his lips.

"We have missed you, so very much."

Kane looked around then. There were a lot of people on the moor, guards and villagers, most of them standing watching, some of them looking over the edge of the cliff.

Kane looked at Abby. "Alasdair?"

She shook her head. "He is dead. The sea has taken him."

Relief washed over Kane. "It is over."

Abby nodded, pressed her forehead to his. "I love you."

"I love thee." Another memory came back to Kane, of a sight that he didn't think he would ever be able to wash from his mind. "Abby, the girl…"

Abby wiped tears from her eyes. "They have taken her to the village medic. I don't know if she will live." She cried again, and Kane held her tight.

"I'm sorry, Abby. We will find out."

Sinclair came back at that moment with two guards. "I'm sorry, Kane, but ye need to go with these men."

"No!" Abby was indignant. "What do you mean? He can't go with them; he has to see the medic."

Sinclair looked at the guards, who nodded. "Ye can see the medic and then ye have to see the castle Commander. Don't worry. It is just a formality."

"What do you mean it is a formality? Why does Marcus have to see them?" Abby had a belligerent tone to her words.

"A man has died, and the Commander wants some answers, but everyone here knows what happened, don't they?" He looked at the guard, who nodded again.

"The guards will attest that Alasdair attacked ye both, and that ye acted in self-defence. No one here wants any trouble, they don't want anyone to know the Lord was harbouring a man who had kidnapped his wife and tried to kill her."

Kane handed Thomas to Abby. "It will be alright, Abby. The sooner we get this sorted out, the sooner we can get home."

Sinclair pulled him to his feet, and Kane embraced him. "Thank ye for everything."

"I would like to say it was a pleasure, but…"

Kane laughed, and then held his side as pain from his hip joined the pain from his back and arm. Sinclair put his arm around him, and Abby walked next to him, holding his hand as they made their way back across the moor to the village.

 **The Hundred Camp, Broad Law, The Southern Uplands**

 **Two days later**

Abby sat back in her chair, surveying the scene in the Mess. Harper was cuddling Thomas, cooing over him while Raven dangled a wooden rattle she'd made in front of him, trying to encourage him to grasp it. Marcus and Sinclair had their heads together, deep in conversation over a flagon of ale. Marcus looked a lot better than he had two days ago. He had his colour back, and his eyes were bright and animated. He looked handsome as ever in his tight-fitting shirt, his kilt bunched up and tucked between his legs, exposing his tanned knees. Whatever he and Sinclair were talking about had him thinking; he was stroking his beard, his brow furrowed, lips pursed as Sinclair spoke. It was a year since she had met him on the road from Edinburgh, and what a year it had been. She had fallen in love with him almost from the start, and that love had only grown deeper as the months went on. For a long time, she had struggled to believe that her love was returned as deeply, not because of anything Marcus did or said, but because she didn't believe she was worthy of such love. There was nothing interesting enough about Abigail Griffin for someone to feel so deeply about her that they would do anything for her. Somehow, Marcus had seen the old spark that was hidden deep within her and he had lit the flame, bringing her back to life.

She watched as Thomas grabbed hold of Raven's hair and pulled it causing her to yell. Marcus laughed, and turned to look at Abby to see if she had seen it. She smiled and nodded to show she had, and he rolled his eyes as if to say, "our son!" He was so proud of Thomas it broke her heart a little and she wasn't sure why. The weight of his love for his son lay heavy on her sometimes, as did her own love for Thomas, because it was overwhelming, and laced with an underlying fear of ever losing him, and the pain that would bring.

"Ye look sad, Abby. What's the matter?" Jackson eased into a chair next to her, spreading his legs out in front of him.

"Not sad. Happy."

"Well, I'd hate to see yer sad face, then!"

Abby patted him on the hand. "I was getting sentimental, that's all."

"It's understandable. Ye've had a rough few weeks."

"It has been an ordeal."

"It's over now."

"Yes, you're right." She stroked his arm. It was over, and she had to convince herself of that, to allow herself to be happy without worrying that it would collapse at any moment. Nothing was going to take Marcus and Thomas away from her ever again. She wouldn't let it.

The door opened and Blake walked in. Abby looked behind him, hoping that he would not be alone, but he turned and shut the door before coming over to her. She stood up so she could give him a hug.

"It is good to see you, Bellamy."

"It is good to see thee as well."

Marcus came across and pulled out a chair on the other side of Abby. "What is the news, Blake?"

"It is good news, Sir." He looked at Abby. "The girl, Marianne, is recovering. She is still very poorly, but the medic thinks she will be alright given time."

"Oh, that is wonderful news." One of the weights that was pressing on Abby's heart was lifted, and she felt such relief. "We must make sure she has everything she needs, Marcus."

Marcus took her hand and squeezed it. "We will, my love."

"That is not all," continued Blake. "I have been to see Clarke."

"Oh! How is she?"

"She is… conflicted would be the best word. She is so happy and relieved that ye are all safe, but I think she is sad too, about Alasdair, even though she hated what he had done. It is a difficult time for her."

"It is understandable. He was a good father to her," said Abby.

"Aye. Well, she has said she would like to come and visit ye."

"When?"

"Soon. When ye have settled back in. She said to tell ye that she loves ye and she's looking forward to meeting her brother."

Tears of joy pricked Abby's eyes as she looked at Marcus. He smiled at her, and leaned across to kiss her forehead. "All will be well," he said. He stood up and looked around the room, smiling.

"I want tae thank ye all for everything ye have done for me and Abby and Thomas. Ye've risked yer lives for us, more than once, and while I don't want ye ever doing that again, I'm grateful. No man could want more from his family. I hope that I can honour yer sacrifices, and be a husband, and a father, and a leader, that ye all can be proud of."

"Ye already are, Kane," said Sinclair.

"Don't encourage him," replied Raven and everyone laughed.

Kane smiled. "Aye, well one thing I do know, I'm not short of people who will keep me in line. To be serious for a moment, though. I may be the leader, but this is our future, to build together, work together, reap the rewards together." He raised his goblet. "We are one clan."

"We are one clan." Everyone raised their goblets to toast the speech, and Harper came around filling their goblets with more wine and ale. Kane put his hand over the top of his goblet when she came to him.

"I am fine," he said. He turned to Abby. "Shall we go home? I just want to be with thee and our boy."

Abby stroked his face, kissed his lips. "Yes, let's go home."

Abby went to take Thomas from Raven. "Are ye leaving us?" she asked.

"Marcus needs to rest, we both do."

"Rest, that's a good word for it." She laughed, then spoke louder, so that everyone could hear. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Kane!"

"With this hip! I wish."

"I'm sure Abby will be gentle with thee."

"Thank you, Raven," said Abby as she handed Thomas to Marcus and then ushered them both out of the door.

They walked slowly back to their house, Marcus holding Thomas against his shoulder. Abby linked her arm through his to support him. He was still in a lot of pain, she knew, not that he would admit how much to her. The house was as she had left it two weeks before, and she felt a surge of happiness and contentment when she took in the carvings Marcus had made that littered every surface, and the paintings she had created that hung on the walls. It was humble, but it was more of a home than any she had known.

"Come and lie down on the bed." She straightened the furs and helped Marcus lie down.

"I have to tell thee, my spirit is willing, but my body is weak, Abby."

Abby laughed. "There is time enough for that." She climbed up next to him, laying Thomas between them.

"What were you and Sinclair talking about earlier? It looked serious."

"Oh, it was nothing, just some business."

"Marcus. We are not keeping things from each other remember."

Marcus sighed. "It was about Alasdair's estate. Sinclair is in charge of it because Alasdair didn't change that for fear of Sinclair finding out that he knew of his betrayal."

"What does that have to do with us?"

"Well, the papers naming our son as his heir are real. Thomas is set to inherit all the Griffin estates."

Abby was alarmed. "I don't want anything from him, Marcus."

"No, neither do I, but it has to be dealt with."

"I understand that, but don't exclude me from any decisions, will you?"

Marcus stroked her face. "I didn't mean to. I didn't want to upset thee today that is all, when we are so happy."

"We are each other's strength, Marcus."

"I know. And courage."

Abby looked down at a sleeping Thomas, stroked his hair. "It is funny that a year ago neither of us expected we would have this life."

Kane stroked Thomas's face, his fingers brushing against Abby's as he did. The flicker of heat she always felt when he touched her flowed through her veins.

"Aye, and what started out on a cold, dark night has become the light in my life, and my hope."

Abby smiled. "That's very poetic of you, Marcus. Did you ever write that ballad?"

"No, I never did get around to it. Perhaps I should write it. The Ballad of the Grey Wolf and the Maid o' The Loch."

"It would be a hit, I am sure."

He brought her head to his, and kissed her, his tongue finding hers, making her moan. "Hmmm," he said, as he stopped for breath. "It might be too much for some people. A shock for the old ladies."

She put her hands in his hair, fingers tightening around his curls, and brought him back towards her. "They do not know what they are missing." She kissed him, the familiar heat rising in her body, drawing her towards him. They were making their music again, unable to stop themselves even though their bodies were protesting. Then a third voice joined them, one that was definitely not in harmony.

"Someone is hungry," said Marcus.

"He's not the only one," sighed Abby, sitting up and settling herself against the pillow.

"No, but there will be time for us later." Marcus handed Thomas to her, and then laid his head on the pillow so he could watch her. He caressed their son's tiny hand as Abby fed him.

Abby smiled at Marcus. "There will. We have the rest of our lives."

THE END


End file.
